Unspeakable Beauty
by QuirksnQuills
Summary: A/U after DH, EWE. Luna Lovegood is the Ministry's newest Unspeakable, and Harry's work as an Auror brings them into close quarters. What will happen when The Boy Who Lived Twice can't stop thinking about The Girl Who Lives In Her Own Universe? HP/LL
1. Lunch

**Introduction: A/U after DH, i.e., EWE, Rated M for future lemons, language, etc. Response to "Of Weathers and Characteristics" challenge on the forums. 4 years post-Hogwarts for Harry, 3 for Luna (so, 2002). Luna Lovegood takes up residence as an Unspeakable, and Harry's work as an Auror brings them into close quarters. Whatever will happen when The Boy Who Lived (Twice) encounters The Girl Who Lives In Her Own Universe? Read on, dear reader, read on…**

**Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, trademarks, etc. of this and all subsequent chapters are the property of their respective owners. The original characters, characterizations, and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media and/or commercial franchise. No copyright infringement is intended or implied.**

* * *

**Chapter 1 – Lunch (Or, Gee, That Was Awkward)**

"Is that her?" Harry Potter craned his neck, straining to see the straggly blond head he'd spotted in the lunch line far ahead of him.

"It has to be," Ron Weasley replied, using his height to his advantage. "She still wears those orange radish-things for earrings."

Harry chuckled, though not unkindly. "Definitely Luna." He watched as the gentle, optimistic girl ordered her food and coaxed a grudging smile from the grouchy short-order cook.

"She always was a ray of sunshine," Ron remarked, shaking his red head in amusement. "Never could figure out why she was in Ravenclaw, though. Gullible as hell. I wonder what happened to her after Hogwarts."

"I think she finished out her seventh year," Harry said. "I remember Ginny saying something about it."

"You two back on, then?" Ron asked casually, darting a none-too-subtle look at his friend under his ruddy eyelashes.

"I have no idea." Harry shook his head with a defeated sigh. Coming back from the dead had a way of making one see things differently; his relationship with Ginny was only one example. She was mercurial at the best of times, but her behavior of late had been downright erratic, and they'd been fighting constantly. Wishing to avoid the awkward, painful subject of his on-again, off-again relationship with the sole Weasley daughter, Harry slipped out of line with a murmur to Ron to save his place. "Hey, Luna!"

She turned at the sound of his voice, her silver-blue eyes still as dreamy as he remembered. "Oh, hello there, Harry," she lilted, as though she had just seen him yesterday.

"How have you been? I haven't seen you since…gods…forever." He felt a little ashamed at the admission. She had been steadfastly loyal to him in her way, always finding a way to fight, but they had abruptly lost touch after the battle of Hogwarts. _I should've tried harder,_ he thought. Out loud, he said, "You totally disappeared. What have you been up to?"

"Oh, travelling mostly," she replied. "Observing all sorts of creatures, writing articles for travel journals, that sort of thing." She tucked a lock of wavy blonde hair behind her ear, bringing her earrings fully into view. When she accepted a steaming plate from the cook with a nod of thanks, the dirigible plums bobbed gently with her head.

"What are you doing here, then?" Harry said, accompanying Luna as she carried her tray to the till. "Just visiting someone for lunch?"

"I got a new job," she explained airily. "I'm an Unspeakable."

Harry's eyebrows shot up. "Wow. What's that like?"

"It's very interesting, but I can't really talk about it," she reminded him gently. "I'm an Unspeakable."

"Oh, right," he agreed lamely, feeling like an idiot. "Erm. Well. It was good running into you."

"You too," she called over her shoulder, carrying her tray off to the edge of the cafeteria.

"How was that?" Ron asked when Harry returned to his side.

"Bloody awkward, to be honest," Harry replied. The two best friends laughed, each remembering just how awkward Luna Lovegood could be.

"You asked for it, mate." Ron nodded toward the grill and the cook waiting for their order. "What d'you reckon?"

XoXoXoXoXoX

For as long as she could remember, Luna Lovegood had been a girl apart. She still didn't feel comfortable using the word "woman" to describe herself. She was now twenty-one, and fully an adult, but most days, she felt like a girl: an overgrown, lonely teenager.

Her father had died unexpectedly the previous summer, bringing an abrupt end to her travels abroad. She now lived alone in her family's ancestral home, which had required near-complete rebuilding after the war. She'd seized the opportunity to paint and decorate, creating murals on the walls wherever she wished. There was a downpour outside the windows at that moment – complete with a howling wind that drove the droplets into near-horizontal, stinging needles – but inside the House of Lovegood, there was a field of daisies waving calmly on the living room wall. Ever the studious Ravenclaw, Luna had painted up the modest library on the second floor like the library at Hogwarts, complete with Madam Pince glaring evilly from her post. The walls appeared to stretch out much farther than was possible; it was her favourite place to go when the silence grew too large for the rest of the house to contain.

The one exception to the artistic explosions on every wall was Luna's bedroom, which she kept as bare as possible. She remembered a time when she had decorated her ceiling with the faces of her friends, but those people were long gone from her life. Well, until now. She stared out the window of her white-walled sanctuary, watching the gale bend the trees and lash the house with freezing-cold rain. A bolt of lightning streaked across her vision, reminding her of a certain scar – and the warm-hearted, green-eyed man who bore it. Harry Potter. Oh, there was a complicated man.

Luna was not a born fighter; she knew what it was to defend one's life and liberty, but action – especially violent action – was at the end of a long list of coping mechanisms for her. Harry, on the other hand, was a fighter by nature. He did everything with burning intensity; even a simple conversation in the lunch line at the Ministry had been enough to sear him into her mind's eye. She stubbornly resolved to stop thinking about the boy she'd crushed on from fourth year onward. Surely a favourite meditation technique would keep her mind busy, and perhaps compensate for the twinge of loneliness in her heart? Settling herself on her bed in the lotus position, she pushed her thoughts firmly to the back of her crowded mind, though she permitted herself one last comforting thought before she closed her eyes._ It's enough that he called me friend, once._

XoXoXoXoXoX

It was nearly midnight before Ginny Weasley walked through the door of her Diagon Alley flat. Harry had been waiting for her for hours in the living room, curled up in a chair with a Quidditch magazine open on his lap. He had been sleeping over consistently for a couple of weeks; most of his clothes and his toiletries had found their way into her space. They had casually discussed making the arrangement permanent, but he was still paying rent on his own flat, and nights like these made Harry glad of it. He stood up, letting the magazine fall heedlessly to the floor. "Where've you been?"

"Just out with my girlfriends," the redhead replied defensively, shaking her hair back over her shoulders. She shrugged off the black leather jacket she was wearing and slung it over the back of one of the kitchen chairs.

"At the pub, were we?" The words were cold, accusatory.

"So?" She glared at him with red-rimmed eyes. "We were celebrating."

"Celebrating," Harry repeated derisively. "Celebrating what?"

"Janice got engaged," Ginny muttered, dropping a name Harry vaguely recognized as one of the Harpies' equipment managers.

"And you couldn't send an owl, or even your Patronus, or Floo-call?"

"I just went out with my friends after work, Harry. It's not a big deal."

Harry felt his temper rise. "Not to you, maybe, but _I_ was worried."

"Oh, _gods._ Since when are you my mum?" Ginny snarked. "The war's _over_, Harry. There aren't Death Eaters lurking around every corner."

Harry sighed angrily, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation. "That doesn't mean that bad things don't still happen, Ginny!" he exclaimed ungrammatically. "You know something? I don't even know why I stay here. You're hardly ever home, and when you are, all we do is fight. It's like you don't even want me in your life."

"Then don't stay," she replied nastily. "You've never had a problem leaving me behind before."

"Fine," he barked, throwing his hands up in the air. "I guess that's that, then." He stalked off to the bedroom to pack his things.

XoXoXoXoXoX

"Hello again," chimed a musical voice from behind Harry. This time, Luna had appeared behind him in the lunch line. Ron had owled in sick that morning with a dreadful cold, which Harry thought he might have contracted as well; he had wandered down to the cafeteria alone in search of some soup to soothe his scratchy throat.

"Oh, hey, Luna." He smiled wearily at her.

"You don't look well." She squinted at the air around him. Harry expected to hear that he was infested with Nargles or Wrackspurts or something, but to his surprise, Luna said nothing of the kind. "Are you all right?"

"I think I'm getting a cold," he admitted.

Luna dug in her large, square purple handbag, producing a single-dose phial of Pepper-Up potion. "Here, this should help."

"Thank you," he said, genuinely touched by her thoughtfulness. "Handy thing to have in your purse."

"I always travel prepared," she replied comfortably.

The wizard standing behind her cleared his throat loudly, and Harry realized he was standing there staring at Luna and holding up the line. "Sorry," he muttered, shuffling along quickly and filling his tray. Luna bobbed along in his wake, filling her tray as well. Harry noticed that she ate sensibly. "Want to have lunch with me?"

"All right," she agreed serenely.

They paid for their meals and carried their trays to an empty table in the centre of the bustling eating area.

"So, how's the new job?" Harry asked, uncorking the Pepper-Up and throwing it back in one shot. Steam began pouring from his ears, but he felt better within seconds.

"Interesting," Luna replied, poking at her salad with her fork. "What do you do here, Harry?"

"Auror," he replied, slurping a spoonful of his soup.

She smiled knowingly. "That fits."

Harry laughed shortly. "That's what everyone says," he agreed. "Completely predictable, I know, but I think it's what I was meant to do. Mostly it's just a lot of meetings – we're re-organizing the department completely – but I know someday, I'm going to save lives."

"I wish I could tell you more about my work. It really is fascinating," Luna said wistfully.

"Why don't you tell me more about _why_ you got a job with the Ministry in the first place? I'm still a little fuzzy on that. It sounded like you had a great life, travelling and writing. Why give it up?"

"My father died," she said without preamble. She had lost her usual lilting, ethereal tone; she sounded like a completely different person, her voice flat and hard. It was only the second time in Harry's life he had heard her use this voice; the first was the time Hermione had cast aspersions on _The Quibbler_ in her hearing. She wasn't angry now, just sad, but the effect was rather the same.

"Oh! Oh, gods, Luna, I'm s-so sorry," he stuttered. "I hadn't heard."

She shrugged. "It was very sudden. He left everything to me, so I moved into the house." She didn't elaborate further, and Harry didn't ask. Silence stretched out between them while they picked at their plates. "I've never decorated a house before," she said eventually. Her normal voice was back, and Harry breathed an internal sigh of relief. "I'm quite enjoying the experience. I like to paint murals, you see."

"What have you painted so far?" he asked, grateful for a change of topic.

"My living room is a field of daisies," she said. "I enchanted all the paintings, so the daisies actually wave in the breeze." One hand made an undulating gesture of illustration. "It's going to be a nice thing to have in the dead of winter." She paused for a bite of her chef's salad.

"What else?" Harry followed the question with a spoonful of soup.

"I've recreated the Hogwarts library on the second floor. Madam Pince and everything."

"You're kidding." He stopped in mid-slurp. "Now, _that_ I would like to see." He was dying to know if she still had his portrait painted in her bedroom, but he thought it would be gauche to ask.

"She makes me feel less lonely, even though she doesn't talk," Luna remarked. Harry looked down at the table. There it was again – that awkward, unflinching honesty that always seemed to poke him in the place that hurt the most.

"So, a field of daisies and the library," he said, dancing away from his guilty conscience. "What else? What's in your kitchen?"

"Nothing." Luna chased the last drip of dressing around her plate with a scrap of lettuce. "I'm still finishing the beach scene in the bathroom. I don't have an idea for the kitchen yet. It will probably come when I'm asleep. That's how I get all my best ideas."

"I get mine in the shower," Harry laughed. Luna's cheeks pinked, and he wondered if she was picturing him nude, a train of thought that made a flush rise rapidly from his collar to his hairline. He cleared his throat. "So, erm...plans for the weekend?"

Luna shook her head. "I'll just be at home, painting, I suppose. You?"

"Cleaning," Harry replied with a grimace. "Ginny and I broke up for approximately the eleventh time last night. I haven't lived at my place for about two weeks, so it's sure to be a dusty mess. I guess we'll both be at home all weekend. Boy, listen to the pair of us. Exciting war heroes, living the glamorous life!"

One corner of Luna's mouth quirked up. The lunch hour was nearly over; she rose and stacked her now-empty dishes on her tray, preparing to leave. "There are different ways to lose a person," she declared unexpectedly, her airy tone at odds with her serious words. "Sometimes they die. Sometimes they move on without you." She paused, pinning him to the spot with her silvery eyes. "Either way, you really can't ever go backward and be happy. Humans are meant to move forward; that's why our eyes are on the front of our heads, you see."

Harry smiled and shook his head. Loony as she seemed at times, one really couldn't fault her observations. "I'll see you around, Luna."

XoXoXoXoXoX

When Harry arrived back at his flat in Muggle London, he was greeted by the sight of half the tenants in his block standing on the sidewalk, watching water pour out of the door and windows on the ground and first floors. He'd chosen to live in Muggle London as a respite from being constantly recognized and pestered in Wizarding London; most of the time, it was a welcome relief, but it had its drawbacks – like now.

"What the hell's going on, Bruce?" Harry yelled to his landlord over the hubbub of the crowd.

"Busted water pipes," Bruce hollered back. He was a tiny, angry, balding, Scottish cannonball of a man, with watery eyes and a graying moustache. He was currently so purple he resembled a frustrated grape, his fat little fists clenched at his sides. "I've been tellin' the property management company for weeks that summat like this was bound to 'appen, and look now!"

Harry groaned; his flat was on the ground floor. As he watched, a waterfall of water cascaded out of his living room window to the sidewalk below.

"I hope ye've got insurance, lad," Bruce said darkly, punctuating his sentence with a rough pat on Harry's shoulder. "I canna imagine there's much left in there ye'd wanna keep."

Luckily, Harry's truly precious possessions – his photograph albums and the like – were kept in a magical safe warded against all forms of physical damage. There wasn't much that could destroy it, short of a thermonuclear detonation (or Fiendfyre). However, his clothes and furniture were another matter. He'd left his bag on his bedroom floor that morning, and it had likely floated off down the Thames by now.

"I've got insurance, Bruce, never fear." He fetched a deep sigh. "Now, I've just got to find someplace to stay."

XoXoXoXoXoX

"Of course you can stay here," Molly Weasley told Harry emphatically. "Harry, you're family! You can have Percy's old room. Stay as long as you like, dear." She leaned across the scarred oak table in the Burrow's kitchen and patted his hand.

"Thanks, Mrs. Weasley," he replied sheepishly. "It should only be until the wedding." He felt a bit stupid, finding his emergency lodging with his ex-girlfriend's mother, but he had little choice. It was going to be weeks before his flat was livable again, and he didn't want to rent at the Leaky Cauldron for more than a night or two. With only a few weeks to go until their June wedding, Hermione was already living in the tiny flat she would share with Ron, but Harry couldn't stay there, either. Hermione's current stress level was several orders of magnitude worse than Hogwarts exam stress, and Harry'd had his fill of squirrelly females for the time being. That only left the Burrow, where Ron would be living for a few more weeks.

"Anytime, Harry. As I said, you're family." She paused, considering whether to continue. "Ginny told me what happened, dear. Do you want to talk about it?"

In fact, he could scarcely imagine anything he'd rather do _less_. "Erm, no thanks, Mrs. Weasley. I'm okay." She nodded, patting his hand comfortingly, and trundled off to the stove to make tea, waving her wand at the cupboard. The tea things began assembling themselves on a tray. "Is Ron still asleep?"

"I think so, dear," Molly replied, not turning around. "Bad cold he's got, very bad."

Harry sneezed violently. "Eurgh. I think I'm getting it, too."

Molly bustled over and laid a practiced palm against his forehead. "I should say so, dear, you're burning up." She snapped her fingers at the stairs. "Go on. Up to bed with you. I'll be up shortly with some tea and Pepper-Up potion."

"I've got to get myself some clothes and other essentials first," Harry said. "I'll take you up on the Pepper-Up, though."

Molly made a moue of displeasure, but padded off to the medicine chest and returned momentarily, handing over a small phial with bad grace. "Very well, but I'll not be held responsible if you die of bloody pneumonia."

Harry feigned innocence. "What's 'bloody pneumonia?'"

"Unless you want to find out firsthand, I'd suggest you get going."

XoXoXoXoXoX

Harry returned from Diagon Alley to find Molly, Arthur, and a recently-roused Ron sitting around the table, tucking into supper. Mealtimes at the Burrow were a much quieter affair these days than in years past; George still lived above his shop, Ginny had her place, and of course the three oldest Weasley boys had been living adult lives for ages now. Ron was the last of the kids to leave home.

"I'm sorry we didn't wait for you, Harry," Arthur called. "We weren't sure when to expect you back."

"That's all right, Mr. Weasley," Harry replied. "I'm not very hungry anyway. I think I'll just take my stuff upstairs and lie down."

"Of course, dear, whatever you need." Molly waved a dismissive hand at him, taking over for Arthur, whose mouth was full.

Ron gave him a tired wave and a half-smile. _He really looks like shit,_ Harry thought, returning the gesture. He trudged up the stairs, bags in hand, stopping in the doorway of Percy's empty bedroom. It had an antiseptic, un-lived-in feel to it, although it had also felt that way when Percy had lived there. The blue bedspread was pulled up too tightly, and the white walls were too stark and empty for comfort. However, the room boasted a tall window next to the bed, with a deep enough ledge that Harry could sit and gaze out at the surrounding countryside.

He did just that, leaving his parcels on the floor for the moment. It was a postcard-pretty view; the sun had set, leaving nothing but a deep navy glow in the sky, and the first few stars were peeking out above Ottery-St. Catchpole. The whole thing looked like a Christmas card depiction of sleepy Bethlehem. Best of all, the black, rook-shaped house that now belonged to Luna Lovegood stood just over the rise between the Burrow and the quiet village in the distance. He could see a light burning in a single upper window, though from this distance, it was impossible to discern whether a figure was silhouetted there.

Luna Lovegood. Now, there was a complicated girl. _Woman,_ Harry corrected himself. She was still a mystic, still ethereal in her bearing, but she no longer gave him the impression that the line between fantasy and reality was blurred for her. It was sad, in a way, to see her former air of endearing dottiness replaced with one of capital-M Mystery. She was still herself, still said things that seemed to come out of nowhere, but gone was the openness and unquestioning faith that he remembered from their youth. Even so, Harry would've bet his last Galleon that she still saw things other people didn't – and he was no longer willing to say that those things weren't actually there. The woman was an Unspeakable, after all. It all pointed to one burning question in his mind – what in the bloody _hell_ had happened to Luna Lovegood in the four years since he'd last laid eyes on her?

The single light in the distant window blinked out suddenly; the growing darkness blotted the rook-shaped house from his view. One by one, the stars continued to wink into existence on the face of the celestial sphere. Harry's bones were beginning to ache from the cold draft seeping around the windowpane; his second dose of Pepper-Up was wearing off quickly. He prised himself reluctantly from his seat and changed slowly into his new, blue-and-white striped pyjamas. He crawled between the cool white sheets of the single bed and lay back, wondering what Luna was doing. He was asleep in a trice.


	2. Dinner

**Chapter 2 – Dinner (Or, Hey Baby, Wanna Purloin My Sirloin?)**

Saturday brought no rest for the weary denizens of the Burrow. Harry and Ron both woke up feeling better, though they were still pale and runny-nosed. Molly pressed them into service anyway. "Your wedding's only two weeks away," she reminded her youngest son, who bitched hard about his assigned task of de-gnoming the garden.

Ron grumbled and sniffled at the same time and trudged out to the garden. "Bloody things'll be back by then, anyhow. No mercy on a dying man."

Harry grinned. He abruptly stopped grinning, however, when Mrs. Weasley thrust one hundred tulle bags and a massive vat of sugared almonds into his hands. He sat down at the kitchen table, where a large pair of scissors, a stack of small gift tags printed with Hermione and Ron's names and the wedding date, and a spool of gold ribbon awaited him.

"Harry, dear, can you assemble the wedding favours? Just put about five almonds in a bag and attach the card with a piece of ribbon. Yes, that's the way."

Despite the ignominy of his task, Harry found the piecework oddly soothing: fill the bag, cut the ribbon, attach the card, repeat. The sound of Ron cursing fluidly floated in through the open kitchen window. Harry shook his head and laughed when his friend came barging back through the garden door, sucking his bloodied thumb.

"What happened?" Mrs. Weasley switched her gaze from the bubbling pot of stew on the stove to her youngest son.

"Little fucker bit me," he snarled, running the digit under a cold tap.

"Ronald Weasley, language!" Molly rapped him sharply on the head with a spoon.

"Ow!"

"Violence is rarely the answer," called a sparkling, feminine voice from the window. A frisson of pleasure ran up Harry's spine, and he turned in his seat (with a bag of almonds in one hand and a curlicue of golden ribbon in the other) to see Luna poking her head in.

"Oh, hello there, Luna," Molly said warmly, pocketing her spoon. "What brings you by?"

"Harry mentioned Ron was ill, so I brought a few phials of my latest batch of Pepper-Up," she explained, holding up her purple handbag in illustration. "Hello, Harry. I didn't know you would be here."

"Oh, erm, hey!" He stood up, seized with the urge to hide his hands behind his back. "How's it going?"

"It goes," Luna replied lightly. Her eyes travelled up and down his frame. "Nice pyjamas." Harry spluttered and sat back down.

"You might as well come in, dear," Molly called to Luna through the window. "Have you eaten breakfast?"

"Yes, thanks," Luna replied, entering through the garden door. She dropped her handbag on the table and removed six large phials of bubbly red liquid from its cavernous interior, handing them to Molly. "This batch is extra strong."

"Won't go amiss, that's for sure," Ron said, swiping a phial from his mum's hands when she passed him on her way to the medicine chest. He poured it down his throat. In addition to the usual outpouring of steam, a few glowing sparks leaped from his ears. "Whoooeeeeee," he wheezed. "You weren't kidding about extra strong!"

"How do you feel?" Luna asked. A delighted smile spread over Ron's face as he shrugged and rolled his head on his shoulders, testing for body aches.

"Wow. Better. A _lot_ better. Thanks, Luna!"

"You're welcome." She was speaking to Ron, but her quicksilver eyes were focused unblinkingly on Harry.

"Do you need one of these, dear?" Molly waved a phial in Harry's direction.

"Yes, please," he said, accepting it. When he swallowed the cinnamon-scented potion, he noticed that in addition to the usual steam pouring from his ears and lessening of cold symptoms, a cheerful, energized feeling spread from his chest to his fingers and toes. "Wow," he commented, echoing Ron. "Wow. What did you do to it, Luna?"

"I added a Cheering Charm to the brewing process," she explained. "If you suffer from excessive giggling as a side effect, let me know." She sat down at the table and swept her silver gaze over the mess.

"Want to help? Between the two of us, we'll be done in no time," Harry coaxed. Luna just smiled and pointed her wand wordlessly at the spool. As he watched, the ribbon trimmed itself into identical lengths, one after the other, creating a pile in the middle of the table. _Merlin,_ he thought. _How'd she get so good with a wordless spell? _As the spell did its work, she began putting five almonds in each bag without needing to be told what to do. "Here," he said, handing her half the stack of tags. Their fingers brushed briefly, sending a tingling rush up his arm. He thought he saw something flash in her eyes, but when he blinked, her expression was as impassive as ever.

"Thanks," she chirped, and went back to assembling favours. Harry did not reply, as his throat had gone very dry. He coughed slightly.

"Oh, didn't the potion work?" She looked disappointed.

_Dammit dammit dammit,_ Harry thought. _She doesn't miss a trick, does she? _"Oh, yes," he choked. "I just – erm – had a frog in my throat." She did her curious watching-the-air-around-him-thing again, but said nothing. He stole a sugared almond from the vat and popped it into his mouth.

"I saw that, young man," Molly scolded, swatting the back of his head with a tea towel. He grinned impishly at her and stole a few more.

"Couldn't resist," he said, cracking the candy-coated confection between his molars. Ron stole a handful of almonds as well, dodging the expert towel-snap his mother aimed at his arse, and headed back out to complete the de-gnoming.

They worked in silence until all one hundred bags were assembled. Molly transfigured an old, single mitten into a box, into which the favours were deposited for safekeeping. "Best hide these," she muttered, carrying the box upstairs and leaving Luna and Harry alone in the kitchen. They smiled awkwardly at each other across the table.

"I should go," she said, getting up from the table and pushing in her chair. "Best get home before the rain starts." As soon as the words were out of her mouth, the sky exploded in a fury of lightning and fat droplets. "Or, I could just Apparate."

"If you can just Apparate, what's the hurry?" Harry heard himself say. "Stay awhile." He was hoping to get the chance to accidentally-on-purpose touch her again.

"Oh, I'm sure you have things to do." Luna waved a dismissive hand. "Besides, you're sick."

"I feel better," he insisted.

She regarded him for a long moment. "The potion should hold you for about twelve hours," she said, as though he'd asked.

Molly came bustling back into the kitchen. "Off again, Luna?"

"I'm afraid so." Luna smiled at the Weasley matriarch. "It was lovely to see you again."

"And you, dear." Molly gave the quiet blonde a quick, motherly squeeze. "Pop by anytime."

At that moment, Ron burst through the garden door, swearing and soaking wet. "I'm going to die of bloody pneumonia," he gasped.

XoXoXoXoXoX

The next two weeks flew by in a flurry of activity, but Harry was never too busy to spare a thought for Luna, or a glance at her house if he was looking out his favourite window. He hadn't seen her in the cafeteria at work, but the light still burned in her window at night, so he knew she wasn't out of town. Although he mentioned it to no one, he was dying to see her again.

The cold, rainy English May had given way to a surprisingly warm, paradisiacal June, perfect for wedding season. And so, on the first Saturday of the month, Ronald Weasley married Hermione Granger in a tent in his parents' backyard. Harry stood up as best man, and Ginny was maid of honour. They managed to swallow the animosity between them and be civil, so as not to spoil the special day of two people they both loved. At _least she's adult enough to do that_, he thought.

Harry was so busy preparing for the ceremony that he did not see Luna until he was standing at the altar by Ron's side. All of a sudden, he noticed her sitting near the back, and the sight of her took Harry's breath away. This was not the bedraggled flower child he remembered from school, the awkward girl with the untamed waves of hair and eccentric, if cheerful, fashion choices. This Luna had styled her hair into a sleek updo and ditched her dirigible plums. Her dress robes were distinctive, but elegant; the colour was not quite silver and not quite gold, and the fabric looked like a liquid metal alloy purling over her tiny frame. She made Harry think of a statue of a Greek or Roman goddess, come to life to watch him with expectant, shimmering eyes. She was what most people called a "cute girl", with rounded, sweet features, but she wasn't just "cute" today. Today, Harry decided, she was approaching beauty. He rather missed the plums, though. His gaze locked with hers, and she gave him a shy half-smile, which he returned. Then the music started, and Ginny proceeded up the aisle. Hermione followed on her father's arm, and as Harry watched, his two best friends were joined together for life. It was a beautiful moment.

After the ceremony came the receiving line, which took forever because there were one hundred guests. It was an amazing number, Harry thought, considering that Hermione was Muggle-born _and_ an only child of only children; her parents were the only guests from her side of the family. He was growing tired of standing, but Harry got his second wind when it was Luna's turn to shake his hand. "Pleasure to meet you," he joked. He was only half-kidding; it really was like meeting her for the first time. Her fingertips were cold, but her hand was soft, and Harry felt a rush of adrenaline when their palms met. An ironic smile lit up her prominent grey eyes.

"Suffering any excessive giggling, Harry?"

"No, just excessive work," he complained playfully. "Come and find me after dinner, I'll tell you all about it."

As it happened, Harry was the one who found Luna. After dinner came the long, boring speeches, and then he and Ginny had to help Hermione and Ron open the dancing, which was awkward in the extreme. When his duties as best man were officially concluded, he ducked out for some desperately-needed air. He found Luna sitting on a nearby tree stump, leaning back on her hands and watching the sky.

"Hello again," he said conversationally. He kicked off his shoes and socks and sat next to her on the large stump, wriggling his long toes in the grass. The dew felt good on his feet. "Am I disturbing you?"

"Oh, no. I'm just woolgathering," she replied. "It's healthy to sit and be idle sometimes. One never knows what one might observe."

"Looking for anything in particular? A Crumple-Horned Snorckack, perhaps?"

She didn't seem amused by his little joke. "I've given up trying to find evidence to fit my theories, Harry," she reproved. "It's generally considered to be an abuse of the scientific method."

_The scientific method? _Harry thought._ What the hell? _Once again, he found himself wondering exactly what Luna had been up to over the past four years. He had never known her to make any sort of reference to the Muggle world, being a Pureblood. "So, what are you looking for, then?"

"Just watch." They sat side-by-side on the stump, faces upturned to the tableau of stars. To a passerby, they might have looked quite silly. Suddenly, a streak of white arced across the sky near the horizon.

"A meteor!" he exclaimed, delighted.

"Mmm-hmm. What else?"

Something dark flitted through his field of vision. Why had he not noticed the bats before? There were dozens of them, perhaps hundreds, all out collecting their midnight snacks. "Bats," he said unnecessarily.

"What do you hear? Close your eyes," Luna prompted. Harry did as she bade, and with visual stimulation cut off, he found he could hear much better: music and raucous laughter from the tent, a very faint squeaking noise, which he attributed to the bats, the light wind, and…

"My heartbeat," he whispered. He didn't know why he was whispering. "I can hear my heartbeat." He opened his eyes to find Luna staring at him with those expressive silver eyes, the ghost of a smile hanging about her lips.

"See? One never knows."

"Heeeeeeeeyyyyy, it's Harry and Luna!" George Weasley danced out of the tent to where they were sitting. "Let's have us a dance, Luna!'

"You're drunk," she responded, but there was a smile on her face.

"No, I'm festively inebriated. There's a difference." George gave a theatrical bow, extending a hand to her. "My lady?"

Harry replaced his socks and shoes, wandering back inside the tent with them. He plunked himself down at a table with a glass of champagne in his hand. It was a fast song, and Luna and George were dancing in a deliberately silly manner, but the sight of them together roused a familiar green-eyed monster in Harry's chest. _Mine,_ it growled. When the music turned slow, George took Luna into his arms, swaying with her to the beat. Harry's eyes fixed on George's hands, wrapped securely around her waist, while her hands rested lightly on his shoulders. Much to his dismay, as Harry watched, George turned his head and whispered something into Luna's ear. She responded by hugging him fiercely. _Oh, no,_ the beast insisted. _No, no, no. We can't have this. _Harry got up and made his way over to them.

"Out the way, Weasley," he mock-bellowed. "Let me show her how a real man does it."

"Where?" George pretended to search the room. "I don't see one." He took Harry's friendly hip-check in stride and stumbled off, grabbing Great-Auntie Muriel and insisting that the old bag have a dance with him instead.

Harry put his hands on Luna's waist, she placed hers on his shoulders, and they danced. "Are you having a good time?" he asked, stubbornly resisting the urge to stroke her skin through the satiny fabric that covered it.

"Oh, yes," Luna replied. "I love weddings." She inclined her head to indicate Ron and Hermione, who were all wrapped up in each other on the dance floor. Harry followed her line of sight and grinned.

"About bloody time. They look happy, don't they?"

Her smile turned wistful. "Yes," she said simply.

When the dance was over, he released her reluctantly. "Hey, Luna. Erm. I was wondering, do you want to grab some dinner tomorrow?" She looked about to say no, so he quickly added, "You know, as friends? Just to catch up, and stuff." He trailed off, embarrassed.

A faint look of surprise flickered in her eyes. "Sure, Harry. Where would you like to go?"

He thought hard for a minute. "Okay, I think I have an idea. But it's a surprise."

"As long as the surprise doesn't involve cilantro," Luna warned with a shudder. "I hate cilantro."

Harry couldn't help it; he laughed out loud. "No, no cilantro. I promise. But you will need to wear Muggle clothes."

XoXoXoXoXoX

Luna passed Harry's "Muggle clothes test" with flying colours. He knocked on the door to her house at 6:30 the following evening, and when she opened the door, she was ready for him. She'd chosen a short, sleeveless ivory sundress and low-heeled sandals for the occasion, with her hair in a loose braid down her back. It wasn't revealing, but the sundress showed that she had more generous curves than he had previously thought, and her arms and legs were toned. Even in heels, she was also quite petite. Harry estimated she was approximately 5'3" in her sock feet. At 5'10", he was not a particularly tall man, so that suited him fine. Her dirigible plum earrings were still missing, replaced with pearl studs.

"Hello, Harry." She looked him up and down, taking in his black sport jacket and sapphire-blue shirt (worn in her honour). "You look nice."

"So do you," he replied sincerely. "Wow." Much to his pleasure, she blushed slightly. He held out his arm for Side-Along Apparition. "Ready to go?"

"Yes." She grabbed her enormous purple handbag from a table by the door and stepped out of the house. She took his arm, and with a _crack_, they Apparated to a dark alley in the heart of London.

Luna was delighted to find Harry had brought her to his favourite Muggle restaurant. It was located on the top floor of a swanky hotel, and Harry wondered if he'd have to explain the lift to Luna, but she had obviously encountered them before. They arrived at the front desk and confirmed their reservation. With a whisper to the maitre d' and a 20-pound note discreetly palmed off, Harry was able to secure a secluded table for two in the section that had the best view of the city.

"I love this place," he told her once they were seated. "It's got the best steak I've ever had. Well, not that I ever really ate a lot of steak until recent years, but you know what I mean."

"It's nice," she said, looking all around. "Do you come here a lot?"

"All the time," he replied. "My flat is only a few blocks away."

"We're close to Diagon Alley, too, aren't we?" Luna whispered conspiratorially, throwing him a too-obvious wink. Harry grinned back, pleasantly surprised that she had her bearings.

"We are. Hey, listen, do you mind if I order for both of us? I want you to sample all my favourites."

"All right."

He called the waiter over by name, handing him a note with their order already written on it (and a hundred-pound note folded discreetly inside). They exchanged a brusque nod, and the waiter promptly buggered off.

"They know you here," Luna commented.

"Yes, they do," he agreed. As he watched, she looked around to ensure they weren't being observed, and then waved a hand over the unlit candle on the table. A flame sprang instantly to life on the wick. _Holy shit_, Harry thought. _Holy fucking shit. That was wordless _and_ wandless. The only other people I've known who could do that were Hogwarts professors, and all about a hundred years old. _Luna cleared her throat, and he realized he was goggling at her with his mouth open. "So. Erm. Where have you been keeping yourself?"

"Oh, I've been eating lunch at my desk lately," she responded breezily. "So much work to do, you know."

"That's not what I meant. I mean, what did you do after Hogwarts?" Harry clarified. "Until you popped up at work, I hadn't seen you in –"

"Four years, yes," Luna finished. "Well, I went back to Hogwarts the year after the battle."

"Yeah, Ginny mentioned that," he said. "What happened after that?"

"I left the UK," she said simply.

He leaned in closer to her across the table, opening his mouth to speak, but the waiter interrupted with a bottle of champagne. "Compliments of the house, m'sieur."

Harry grinned inwardly. _Compliments of the house, my arse_, he thought. "Thank you."

"Champagne?" Luna queried. "Are we celebrating?" The waiter popped the cork and filled their glasses halfway before disappearing back to the kitchen.

Harry smiled and lifted his glass. "Of course we are! You've got a new job, remember? To new beginnings," he toasted. One corner of her mouth twitched at this, but she clinked her glass with his, and they drank. "Now. You were about to tell me why you 'left', as you so vaguely put it."

She frowned, clearly hemming and hawing about what to tell him – or possibly _how much _to tell him. "Long story short? I left because of my father," she said. A moody look clouded her wide silver eyes.

"I don't understand. I thought you _came back_ because of your father."

"Yes, that too."

"Okay, I don't get it."

"Really?" Luna quirked an eyebrow. "Of all people, Harry, I would have thought that _you_ would understand better than most."

Harry shook his head, frowning. "What –"

"What did he _do_, Harry?" Luna interrupted. Her voice had changed to the flat, hard tone that he dreaded. "He _betrayed _you. And me. _That's_ what he did." She took a delicate sip from her glass, not looking at him. "The story got out, you know," she continued bitterly. "The story of just how you got caught by the Snatchers and wound up at Malfoy Manor, I mean. 'All's fair in love and war', isn't that what he said?" Harry nodded mutely. "If you thought I was an outcast before, you should have seen my seventh year at Hogwarts. I was the girl whose dad betrayed Harry Potter to the Death Eaters." She finished her champagne. "I had to get out. After the year I had, I didn't ever want to hear the word 'magic' again, so I left. I decided to make like a Muggle-born, in reverse."

Harry removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. He could think of about a million things he wanted to say to her, but her tale was obviously not over. His voice sounded hollow to his own ears. "Where did you go?"

"Canada."

"_Canada?" _He stared at her blurry form, absolutely gobsmacked.

"Canada." She traced a finger idly around the rim of her empty champagne flute, making the crystal sing softly.

_"Why?" _

"It's beautiful there. I don't imagine you've ever been?" When Harry shook his head, she continued. "They have everything. Maritimes, prairies, mountains – even some of the best beaches in the world. It's also an entire ocean away from here."

Harry was unable to stop himself from picturing Luna on the beach in a bikini, though he mentally cursed his perverted brain all the while. _You really do have the worst timing, me,_ he thought to himself. Out loud, he said, "What did you do in Canada, besides visit the beach?"

"That part, you already know. I travelled, freelanced for travel journals, that sort of thing."

"Muggle travel journals?" He replaced his glasses on his nose.

"Yes. Well, the other kind, too. Freelancing isn't easy money in either world. Canada has a small Wizarding population, so I found opportunities in the Muggle world where I could, and made them in the Wizarding world where I could not. You might say I got in touch with my inner Slytherin. I have learned the hard way," she said, pausing for a moment to collect her thoughts, "that it pays to play one's cards close to the chest, Mr. Potter." He did not miss the ironic use of his last name, although he could only wonder what she meant by the sudden, odd formality. "The research was fun, though," she added with a charming grin. As quickly as it had disappeared, her normal voice was back. "Someday, I'd like to publish an illustrated guide to the magical wildlife there. Tourism is big business; I'd imagine it would sell well."

Harry felt momentarily disoriented. He was sitting in a Muggle restaurant, drinking alcoholic beverages with Luna Lovegood, and discussing future business opportunities. Surely, if something stranger had occurred, he had not yet heard about it. It dawned on him after a moment that Luna had been involved in the Wizarding publishing business since childhood, so it really wasn't all that odd, after all. She'd been her father's right hand at _The Quibbler_ from the time her mother died until –

"At any rate," she said, meeting Harry's gaze and interrupting his thoughts, "my father was a coward and a fool, and I learned a great deal about how the world _really_ works once I escaped his influence." Her voice stayed light this time, her tone earnest. "I feel awful about what he did to you during the war, Harry. Sometimes I think it was my fault. If I'd moved a few seconds faster or slower that day – if I'd been quicker with my wand, maybe – then perhaps they wouldn't have caught me, and Dad wouldn't have done it, and Hermione wouldn't have been tortured, and –" to Harry's horror, she looked as though she might cry. He had never, ever, _ever_ seen Luna Lovegood cry. He supposed she'd cried when Dumbledore died, but he'd not been in any state of mind to notice at the time. When Cho Chang had cried on him, he'd had to squelch his disgust; in sharp contrast, seeing Luna's silver eyes swimming with tears made his heart squeeze painfully. The waiter chose that inopportune moment to bring their appetizer - a double helping of escargot. He also refilled their champagne flutes before leaving, which at least gave Luna a much-needed moment to compose herself.

"Can I tell you something?" Harry asked her quietly, once he figured out what to say. She nodded. "Well, a couple of somethings, actually. First something: none of what happened was your fault. _You_ didn't set Death Eaters loose on the country. Last I checked, megalomania is not one of your issues." She opened her mouth, but he held up an admonitory finger, forestalling her. "Not done. Second something: regardless of anything your father did, _you_ have always been there for me when I needed you. You were one of the only DA members to show up for the Department of Mysteries, and you were right there, fighting by my side during the last battle. I dunno why people think Gryffindors have the market cornered on bravery. You're brave too, Luna. You've always put your Galleons where your mouth is, so to speak."

"Put up or shut up," she chimed unexpectedly. Taken off guard, Harry laughed. Luna smiled. "You always were one of the few people who could appreciate my sense of humour, you know."

His eyebrows shot up. "I don't believe I've ever heard you make a joke, Luna."

She gave him an exaggerated look that said, _oh, come off it. _"You didn't _really _think I believed that the Rotfang conspiracy was going to bring down the Ministry with a combination of Dark magic and gum disease, did you?"

Harry blushed and coughed, refusing to meet her gaze.

"Fuck you very much," she said, grinning widely. His jaw dropped.

"Luna _Lovegood_. I have never heard you swear before."

"There's plenty about me you've never experienced before, Harry _Potter._"

He snickered at her double entendre, wondering if it was intentional. "Yeah, I'm finding that out." He grabbed one of the cocktail plates the waiter had brought and put half the escargot on it, handing it back to her. "Go ahead."

"Oooh, escargot. I love these," she exclaimed, spearing one eagerly with her fork and popping it into her mouth. She closed her eyes briefly as she chewed and swallowed. "Oooh. Oh. Oh my. That's good."

Harry didn't know which emotion he felt more strongly – annoyance that he had thus far failed to show her anything she didn't recognize, or arousal from the unintentionally sexy noises she was making. She also made him feel a little stupid, now that he was actually having a conversation with her that lasted more than thirty seconds. She wasn't doing it on purpose, he was sure; she was just that smart, and he was absolutely dying to impress her. He thought back to Ron's remark about Luna seeming out of place in Ravenclaw and shook his head. _That's why she's a Ravenclaw and you're not, mate_.

"What?"

"Oh, nothing. I'm sorry, I was just thinking." He loaded up his plate with escargot and tucked in, just to avoid looking directly at her. They munched in silence for awhile, both finding that the awkwardness had crept back in. "So, how did you wind up dating George Weasley?"

Luna looked politely bewildered. "Excuse me? I'm not dating George."

"You're not?"

"No," she said, sounding confused and amused at the same time. _Confamused,_ _kinda like how she makes me feel, _Harry thought, his brain going into giddy overdrive at the words _I'm not dating George. _"Where'd you get that idea?"

"At the wedding," he explained. "You two looked…erm…cozy."

Luna giggled. "Oh, that's silly," she said. "I think Ginny would scratch my eyes out if I went anywhere near her brothers."

"Huh?" It was Harry's turn to be confused.

"She absolutely hates me on account of what my father did during the war," Luna said. "She never said anything to you?"

"To be honest, it never came up."

"Well, she was a big part of the reason my seventh year at Hogwarts was a living hell. That's all I'm going to say about that, except to say that I'm surprised you never heard about it."

He shook his head. "No, not a word."

"George and Molly feel sorry for me, I think," she said thoughtfully. "It was Molly who insisted they invite me to the wedding, I'm sure."

"Erm, no," Harry said, feeling immense satisfaction at knowing something Luna didn't, for once. "Actually, that was Hermione."

"Really? I always thought she hated me, too."

"She values your friendship, Luna. We all do. But if I'm being honest, I think she does underestimate you."

"As have you, in the past," she pointed out.

Harry grimaced. "Touché."

The food arrived, one plate of butter chicken with basmati rice and naan, and one plate with a blue rare sirloin steak and a baked potato with the works, which the waiter laid out in the centre of the table. A clean plate was placed in front of each of them. "Anything else for you?" he asked.

"No, we're all set." Harry smiled at him. "Thanks again."

"My pleasure, sir. I'll be back later to check on you." The waiter tapped the table to punctuate his words and returned to the kitchen.

They shared the food evenly between them, except for the steak, which Luna refused on the grounds that it was still bleeding. "I like animals," she mused. "I also like meat. Sometimes I can reconcile the two. Other times…"

"Luna Lovegood, rugged naturalist," Harry teased. "Actually, you can blame Bill Weasley for this. He's the one who turned me on to eating my steak this way."

"I remember him," she said quietly. "He was kind to me. His wife, too."

"The Weasleys are good people," he said. "Well, I dunno if I'd call Percy Weasley a good person, but the rest of them. That includes Ginny, although she can be a bit of a bully at times." He popped a bite of steak into his mouth, pausing to chew and swallow before continuing. "If it makes you feel any better, she was a horrible bitch to Fleur when Bill first brought her home. Fleur's actually a very sweet and loving person, and a talented witch, but Ginny was just determined to hate her. Hell, I've even heard Ginny insinuate that Hermione's stupid for not understanding Quidditch – right to Hermione's face."

"Really." Luna frowned deeply. "Well. Can't say as I know anyone else with the stones to call Hermione Granger stupid."

She'd done it again – caught him off guard. Harry nearly choked on his next bite of steak, he laughed so hard. "I can see why you and George get along," he managed, wiping tears from his eyes. "And, may I just say, I'm very sorry I never took the opportunity to really get to know you."

"Not never," she replied. "You're doing it now."

"That's true," he conceded, smiling what he hoped was a winning smile.

"And, Harry? I'm glad we're friends." She smiled shyly back at him. "Now I don't have to feel guilty every time I see you."

"Does that mean you'll try the steak?"

"Ask nicely." She batted her lashes. He was sure she was only kidding, but he gulped, suddenly nervous.

"Luna, will you please trust me, as a friend, and try my delicious steak?"

"Are you coming on to me?" she deadpanned. Harry roared.

They talked late into the night, long past the hour when they should have packed up their leftovers and gone home. He found himself completely enthralled with this intelligent, funny, yet incredibly humble and sensitive woman. He found himself thinking, _Harry, mate, how in the hell did you miss this one_? His eyes were drawn more and more to her mouth, and to the curve of her jaw just below her ear.

Just as the waiter was approaching to remove their plates, out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Luna sneak a tiny piece of the blue rare steak off of his plate. He did not comment, wanting to see what she would do without interfering. She quickly stuffed it into her mouth, obviously hoping he wouldn't notice, and chewed once, twice. She paused. Harry waited for the inevitable look of disgust, but her face lit up instead.

"You were right," she said, her wide silver eyes going even wider. "Oh, wow. That's amazing. It tastes so _different!_"

"Hey," he chided playfully. "You purloined my sirloin."

"Thank you," she said blithely.

XoXoXoXoXoX

It was very nearly midnight before Harry dropped Luna off at her front door. "Thank you," she said again. "That was wonderful."

"It really was." He leaned against the door frame and smiled at her. She regarded him for a long moment.

"Can I ask you a question, and you won't take it the wrong way?" She tilted her head to the side, considering him.

"I'll try," Harry shrugged.

"What happened between you and Ginny?" He must have looked sad, because she added hurriedly, "I only ask because I can't understand why she'd let a guy like you get away."

Warmth spread through his chest, as surely as if she'd cast a Cheering Charm on him. "Thanks, Luna," he said, once again touched by her sweetness. "She and I…we've always had our issues. She would never let me just do what I needed to do without punishing me for it. I can be an arse sometimes, I admit it, but she has a hard time with forgiveness. She's changed a lot since Fred died, too. So has George, but he's just more serious than he used to be. Ginny is angry. I'm so tired of angry people. And lately…" he let out a long breath. "I'm pretty sure there's someone else."

Luna looked at the ground. "I'm sorry," she said softly, regretfully. "It's none of my business."

"I don't mind. Can I ask you a question in return, though?"

"Fair's fair." She watched him expectantly.

The question he actually wanted to ask was _can I kiss you? _However, he sensed that when the time was right, he would know it. He wouldn't need to ask. "How'd you learn to cast both wordless and wandless spells at such a young age?"

"That's a story for next time," she evaded. "I have to get to bed – lots to do at work tomorrow. But you remember my telling you that I did a lot of research in Canada? Well, it wasn't all about animals."

"Well, you can't stop there," he protested.

"To quote the venerable Pierre Elliot Trudeau, 'just watch me'," she replied, throwing him an almost Draco Malfoy-esque smirk. "Good night, Harry."

He stared at the door she had just closed gently behind her. "Who?" he asked the dirigible plums, utterly baffled. It wasn't until much later that he realized what she'd said, and that warm feeling crept over him again. _Next time._


	3. Cajun Boy

**A/N: Upon reading this chapter over my shoulder, my smartass husband pulled up Rick Astley's "Never Gonna Give You Up" on his iPhone. He said he thought it was an appropriate song, but I think he just couldn't pass up the chance for a Rick roll. **

**A very Happy New Year and thank you to everybody who has read, reviewed, favourited, and enjoyed thus far. You've all been absolutely lovely. I'm having a blast writing this.**

* * *

**Chapter Three – Cajun Boy (Or, Adventures in Home Theatre)**

Harry walked around with a stupid grin on his face for several days, replaying his _confamusing _dinner with Luna over and over again in his mind. He really wanted to send her an owl or drop by her house for a visit, but he decided to play it cool. _Ball's in her court, now._

When five days had passed and he still hadn't heard from her, Harry's good mood diminished considerably. _Did I fuck it up? Come on too strong?_ He stared out his office window as though he were in Percy's bedroom, half-expecting to see a large black rook in the distance. _Come on, Luna. Give me a sign…_

"Hello, Harry."

The voice from the doorway startled him so badly he fell out of his chair, upsetting his ink bottle with one flailing elbow. A large pool of indigo spread all over his already-messy desk and the papers he had been perusing. "Shit," he said succinctly.

"I know you are, but what am I?" Luna replied calmly. She took a seat in one of his visitors' chairs.

Harry snorted. "Hello, by the way," he grunted, getting up from the floor.

She observed him with a look of faint amusement on her face, taking in his rumpled hair and messy desk. "Hello," she repeated. With a wordless flick of her wand, the ink went back in the bottle, the papers re-assembled themselves, and Harry's chair knocked his knees out from under him, forcing him to sit down with an ungraceful _thud. _"What are you up to tonight?"

"No plans," he said hopefully, glancing at the clock on the wall. It was nearly four o'clock – time to pack up for the day. "Thank Merlin. The weekend is here."

"Rough week?"

"You could say that." He groaned, removing his glasses and scrubbing his palms over his face in a tired, frustrated gesture. "Dawlish is up my arse and around the corner about the department re-org and these stupid budgets."

"Would you like me to go in after him? Bend over." Luna made a "turn-around" motion with her wand, fixing him with a decidedly wicked grin.

Harry's eyes widened in mock-horror. He replaced his glasses on his nose. "Exit only, m'dear."

She threw her head back and laughed, filling his dreary office with sonic sunlight. _I missed you,_ he thought. She gestured at the clock. "Well, then, let's make our exit. It's my turn to treat you to dinner."

"You don't have to do that." Harry couldn't stop the grin from spreading across his face. "But I won't stop you, either."

"It's nothing fancy, not like the place you took me. You're coming to my house," Luna announced, "because I have an ulterior motive."

It was all Harry could do not to rub his hands together and cackle with glee à la Ebenezer Scrooge. _Gods, I hope so. _ "Oh? What motive would that be?"

"You're going to help me figure out how we set up a television and DVD player in a house with no electricity," she said. "I hope you enjoy a challenge. We shall also order a take-away curry, I think, because I can't cook."

Much to Luna's surprise, Harry pulled a Muggle mobile phone out of his pocket and started dialing. He put the phone to his ear. "Hi. This is Harry Potter. Good, thank you Louise, how are you?" He rolled his eyes at her, making a _blah-blah-blah_ gesture with the hand that wasn't holding the phone. "Oh, is that right? Well, you'll have to tell me all about it the next time I come in for dinner. Speaking of which, can I order the Friday night usual for pickup? A double order, this time." Luna could faintly hear a woman's voice respond on the other end. "You've got the credit card number on file? Yes, that's the one. Okay, thanks, Louise. I'll be there about 4:30 to pick it up, is that enough time? Okay. Great. Thank you. Okay. Yes. Okay. _Okay_," he said, rolling his eyes at Luna again and shaking his head. "Sounds good. Okay. See you soon." He punched the disconnect button and sighed. "Gods, that woman has the gift of the gab."

"Who was that?"

"The owner of the restaurant I took you to on Sunday," he replied, pocketing the phone. "We'll pick up our order on the way to your place."

"You told her to charge your card. _I_ was going to treat _you_," Luna protested.

_Being with you _is_ a treat,_ Harry thought.

"That's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me," she said softly, looking at him with a tender expression. "Thank you." He stared confusedly at her for a moment, quickly realizing that he'd inadvertently spoken out loud.

"Erm. Well. Shall we go?" He valiantly pretended that neither of them was blushing. They walked out of his office together, headed for the designated Apparition point on his floor. "Let's drop by my place first so I can get out of my work clothes," he said. "Then we can walk over to the restaurant."

* * *

"You have excellent taste in décor." Luna poked one of the throw pillows on his leather sofa with her wand. "I've never known a man who owned throw pillows."

"I wouldn't own any if I hadn't hired a decorator when I moved in," Harry admitted. "Personally, I think they're kind of useless. The decorator asked me what my 'vision' was, and I told her that as long as the colour scheme wasn't green and silver, she could do whatever she wanted." He grinned. "Dangerous thing to do, I know, but it turned out all right."

"To the best of my recollection, Harry, danger has never stopped you from doing anything."

They laughed together. "You have a point," he agreed. "Want the grand tour?"

"Sure!"

She got up off the sofa and followed him around while he showed her the kitchen, the guest room, and the bathroom. "And here's my room," he said, pushing the door open.

"Ooh, I like this," she commented. The walls were painted the colour of merlot. The simple furnishings were of dark-stained cherry wood, all clean lines and pewter drawer pulls. The queen-sized bed was made up with soft-looking linens striped in ivory and gold, which matched the drapes. Without warning, Luna ran into the room and did a flying belly-flop onto the bed. "Wheeeeeeee!" She hugged one of his pillows under her cheek. "Ooh. Yup. I _really_ like this."

"Comfortable?"

"Mmm-hmm." She moved her arms and legs in a swimming motion, her eyes closed in bliss. "I love a nice, soft mattress."

"Me too," Harry managed. It was kind of difficult for him to speak coherently, because there was a voice in his head screaming _Luna is on my bed! Luna…is on my BED! _Being that she was lying on her stomach, he also had a delicious view of her arse.

"Mmmm. Harry?" She cracked one silver eye. "Let's just stay here."

_Oh, gods. Yes, please._ "We have a dinner to collect, remember?"

She buried her face in the pillow with a moan. "Five more minutes?" she begged, her voice muffled.

"Out!" He snarled in mock outrage, pointing a single index finger at the door in an eerily accurate imitation of Severus Snape.

Reluctantly, she prised herself from his bed and flounced past him, her long, wavy hair bouncing behind her. "Killjoy," she accused.

"Hold that thought until you see what the 'Friday night usual' is," Harry chuckled. _Although, if all goes according to plan, 'Friday night usual' will soon mean something completely different, _he added mentally. "I'm just going to change. I'll be right out."

* * *

Once Harry had changed into his favourite jeans and an ultra-soft black cotton tee, he and Luna made their way to the restaurant, then to her house (which Harry had creatively nicknamed the Rook). He had not been there since the war, and the rebuild had completely changed the floor plan. The entire ground floor was now an open-concept kitchen and living room. As she had said, the walls of the living room were painted as a field of daisies. He watched in awe as the extremely realistic flowers swayed in their imaginary breeze. "Amazing," he said, touching the wall gently. He was almost surprised when nothing but a cool, hard smoothness met his fingertips.

"Come on, Harry, I'll give you the grand tour." She held a hand out to him with a smile. He took it eagerly, letting her pull him along. "This is the kitchen," she said unnecessarily, waving her other hand about vaguely. The floor was tiled in cream-coloured ceramic, and the oak cupboards and granite countertops gleamed at him. If Harry's miserable childhood with the Dursleys had not beaten the joy of cooking out of him, he would have enjoyed making a meal there. As it was, he simply deposited the take-away containers on the counter and cast a warming charm over them before letting Luna lead him up the spiral staircase in the centre of the house.

"The first floor has the bathroom and guest room," she explained. A narrow hallway bisected the circular floor, dividing the level into two large, semi-circular rooms, each closed off by a set of double doors. "The bathroom is on the right." They bypassed the first floor for now, continuing up the staircase.

"Welcome to the Library," Luna said. There were no doors or hallways here – just the Hogwarts Library.

"Holy shit," Harry breathed. "Luna, this is incredible!" Sure enough, a life-sized Madam Pince glowered at him from behind her desk. He knew the room to be circular, but he could have sworn he was standing in the long, book-packed library at school.

"It's enchanted with a special _tromp d'oeil_ spell that I thought up," she said airily, divining his thought. "Once you get closer to the walls, you can see that they are curved."

He tested it, reluctantly letting go of her hand and disappearing between two bookcases. "That was good thinking on your part," he said when he came back. "It'd be disorienting, otherwise."

"Exactly!" She beamed at him. "Come on, I'll show you my room."

As it turned out, Luna's bedroom was the entire third floor. To his shock, the walls were completely bare. "Don't you have an idea for in here?" he asked, disappointed.

"I keep it bare on purpose," she replied smoothly. For some reason he didn't understand, that deepened Harry's disappointment. The room was actually quite comfortable, in spite of the lack of ornamentation. A chimney ran up the side of the house, supplying each floor with a fireplace, and she'd chosen to make the area around hers into a private lounge. Two luxuriously comfortable-looking armchairs sat on either side of a black walnut coffee table, which was groaning under the weight of a pile of books. On the other side of the room, her black walnut canopy bed was made up with a simple navy spread, and flanked with two night tables in the same dark wood. A small room behind a closed door curved outward from one section of the wall, like a bite out of a cookie. Harry guessed that it was an ensuite.

"This house is so cool," he exclaimed.

"You haven't seen the best part yet," she told him. She grabbed his hand again, making his stomach drop to roughly the level of Earth's mantle. "Come on."

The best part turned out to be a widow's walk that circled the entire crown of the rook. "Oh, wow," Harry chuckled. He let go of her hand again and leaned between two of the battlements, checking out the view around them. "You were right. This _is_ the best part!"

"I love my house," she said, taking a deep breath of the sweet, fresh air. It was not a boast, just a frank confession.

"I can see why you would want to live here," Harry agreed. "Hell, _I _want to live here. This place is wicked."

She smiled. "I'm hungry," she said simply. "Shall we go downstairs?"

* * *

Harry's "Friday night usual" turned out to be a delicious-looking yellow curry, full of chicken, raisins, and grilled green apple and mango slices, all served appetizingly on a bed of coconut rice.

"Where do you keep your plates and stuff?" he asked, unpacking the little boxes.

"In the bathroom," she said innocently.

He gave her a cheerful two-fingered salute, sending her into a fit of giggles. "That cupboard has the plates, that drawer has the cutlery," she elucidated, pointing.

"And that seat has your name on it," Harry instructed, pointing to a kitchen chair. "I may know nothing about what you do all day at work, but I'll bet you've been eating at your desk all week." She actually looked sheepish at this. "Time to actually relax and enjoy a meal."

"You're going to serve me dinner in my own house?" she said, looking doubtful.

"No. Well, yes, but I'm doing so in order to make sure you relax and enjoy your Friday night," he said. "Besides, I'm dishing up some take-away, not cooking."

A thoughtful look stole over her face. "Actually, I think I'll change out of my work clothes. Do you mind?"

"Be my guest," Harry said. Luna laughed.

"Good one."

"I thought so."

* * *

Harry had to stifle a laugh when Luna came back downstairs in baby blue, unicorn-patterned flannel pyjamas. Her hair was loose and flowing down her back, her face scrubbed and pink; she was so damn cute, Harry just wanted to abandon all pretense and snog her silly. "Do you always entertain in your pyjamas?"

"You did it first," she reminded him. "At Ron's house." She came to sit at the table with him and bent her head over her plate, inhaling the delicious-smelling steam that rose from it. "That smells fantastic." She picked up her fork and tucked in, starting by spearing a piece of mango and a chunk of chicken together. Harry tried not to stare, but he liked watching her eat. She tried the food in different combinations with every bite – apple and raisins with chicken, rice and apple, mango and chicken again, she liked that one – and often closed her eyes as she chewed, indicating that she'd found a particularly delicious morsel. She was surprisingly sensual, Harry mused, for someone who had always seemed so innocent and detached from reality. He couldn't help but wonder if that sensuality extended to other areas of her life as well. "Is it good?"

"So good," she half-moaned. The hair on the back of his neck stood up. "You eat this every Friday?"

"Every Friday," he echoed. "It's become a habit."

"Well, Mr. Potter, if that's the case, I believe we now have a standing engagement for Friday nights. I insist on paying for it at least half the time, though."

_Yes!_ "No," Harry said. Luna's mouth snapped shut in disappointment. "Oh, no, I mean I won't let you pay for it, not that I don't want a standing engagement," he clarified quickly.

"Why not? I feel like a leech." She wrinkled her nose.

_Because the "Ancient and Most Noble House of Potter" also comes with an "Ancient and Most Noble Bank Account". Because I really like you and want to spoil you. Because you need someone to make sure you take care of yourself. Because I will never get tired of watching you eat. _"Because I'm an old-fashioned guy."

"That only applies if you're dating," Luna said quietly. Silver eyes bored into emerald ones for a moment, but then she looked back at her plate.

"Details, details. Come on; just let me do this, okay?"

She laid her fork down and steepled her fingers in a matter that reminded Harry slightly of Dumbledore. "On one condition."

_Please, please, _please_ let it be a demand for hot, steamy sex in the living room. _For some reason, the idea of laying her down on the soft rug in the middle of the eternal daisy field had immense appeal for him. "Name it."

"You'll let me do something for you."

"Like what?" _Does sex in the living room count as doing something "for" me, or something "to" me? _

"I don't know yet. But the moment will present itself, I'm sure."

Harry paused. "Agreed." He stuck his hand out, and they shook on it (he held onto her hand for a moment longer than was strictly necessary, however).

* * *

"I think it's finally working," Luna said, bending over the instructions for the DVD player. Three hours had passed since they'd finished dinner, and between the two of them, they'd managed to conjure and electrical generator that ran on the ambient magical energy in the house. "Wow. That was a feat of epic Transfiguration and Charms skills. McGonagall and Flitwick would be proud of us."

"Hell, _I'm _proud of us." Harry was crouched in front of the entertainment unit Luna had purchased from a Muggle furniture store, cleaning up the packaging and assorted assembly debris and Vanishing it with a flick of his wand and a muttered incantation. "That was a great idea you had, building a genny."

"I had that idea in a dream once, a long time ago. I can't believe it worked." She handed him a DVD. "Here, put this in. Let's test it." Harry did as she asked, then came to sit next to her on the sofa. The disc in the player turned out to be a _Best of Saturday Night Live_ compilation. "This is an American show, but I got hooked on it when I was in Canada," Luna explained. She pointed the remote at the television and flicked through the menus until she found what she wanted. "Watch this."

The sketch she pulled up was from the 1990's, when Kevin Nealon was still doing the news segment, and Adam Sandler would play various guests. As they watched, Nealon attempted to interview Sandler, who played a bayou-dweller named "Cajun boy". He responded to every question with a word that ended in "-ion", drawled in an exaggerated Cajun accent, so the word "penetration" became "penetray-shee-YON." Between the toilet humour and Nealon's priceless facial expressions, by the end of the skit, both Luna and Harry were clutching their sides and howling.

"My Canadian friends and I used to play the Cajun boy game when we went camping," Luna managed between hiccups. She punched the pause button on the remote control.

"You made a game out of it?" Harry gasped, thumbing tears from the corners of his eyes.

"Yeah! You go around the circle, or with two people you take turns, at you have to think of a word that ends in "-ion" that hasn't been used already. The last person to stump all the others wins. Oh, and you have to say it like Cajun boy." She hiccupped again, giggling wildly. "It's great - hic! - fun. Keeps the mind sharp."

"Eleva-TION," Harry said, donning a mask of mock seriousness.

"Recapitula-TION," Luna retorted.

His eyes narrowed. "Emancipa-TION proclama-TION."

She frowned, but the effect was marred by another hiccup. "That's cheating. Conflagra-TION."

"Is not. Denigra-TION."

"Is too. Transporta-TION." She took a deep breath and held it.

"Ooh. Nice one. Elimina-TION."

Her face lit up. _Uh oh,_ Harry thought. She looked him right in the eye and said, "Erec-TION."

He went beet red, spluttering. _You don't know the half of it, baby,_ he thought, remembering the view he'd gotten of her deliciously round arse. He knew that there were many other words in the English language that ended in "-ion", but the damned things would not come out of his mouth.

"I win," Luna crowed.

"Oh, no you don't," Harry retorted emphatically. "You didn't say anything about a time limit. Flirta-TION."

The look in her eyes sharpened. "Seduc-TION."

"Consumma-TION." He quirked an eyebrow, daring her.

"Oooh." She thought for a moment, tapping her lips with one finger. Her hiccups were gone. "Comple-TION."

"Repeti-TION." He waggled his eyebrows at her.

Her silver-blue eyes twinkled. "Intui-TION," she said softly. "Also, I have to pee."

_Dammit, Luna, don't run from me, _he thought. "Hey, do you mind if I check out the library?"

"Be my guest," she said, echoing their earlier conversation with the ghost of a smile.

Harry followed her up the stairs. He thought she would go to the bathroom on the first floor, but she dropped him off in the library, making her way up to the ensuite bathroom instead. He wondered at it, but quite enjoyed the extended view of her arse, at any rate. He'd meant to check out her books while she peed, but he found himself just leaning against a table, staring at the floor without really seeing it. All he could see was a pair of wide silver eyes in his mind's eye.

_Gods, she's so amazing._ She had always been a formidable witch – she'd been able to cast a corporeal Patronus at the age of fourteen, after all – but he couldn't believe how much her time in the Muggle world had helped her bloom. She was finally living in the same world as he – that is, somewhat in-between worlds – and she walked the fine line between Muggle and magic with unexpected grace. _Then again, everything about her is unexpected, _Harry thought. _Cards close to the chest, indeed._ He closed his eyes, thinking again of the curve of her jaw under her ear. He wanted to kiss her there, to scrape his teeth over the tender flesh until –

"Harry? Are you all right?" He opened his eyes to find her standing in front of him, staring at him with a perplexed look on her face. She was still wearing her unicorn-patterned flannel pants, but she'd replaced the baggy pyjama top with a tight-fitting blue tee. Her nipples poked out a little in the cool air, and he suddenly realized his mouth had gone very dry. "You're being swarmed by Wrackspurts."

"Really?" He waved his arms around his head, as though he could chase the creatures away.

"No. I bet myself five Galleons I could make you wave your arms in the air like an idiot before the night was out. Glad to know I haven't lost my touch." He glared at her. She tilted her head to the side and smirked. "Payback's a bitch."

Harry snorted._ At least it prevented you from noticing my raging hard-on. _"You really have been taking lessons from George Weasley."

"Yeah, I guess you could say he's taught me a thing or two." She gave a feral grin and crossed her arms over her chest, leaning against the bookcase across from him.

Harry's face fell. "I thought you said you weren't dating."

"We're not. I'm not. That's not what I meant." She had an odd expression on her face, a mixture of curiosity and something that he didn't recognize. She eyed him speculatively. "The thought of me dating George bothers you, doesn't it?"

"That's what I like about you, Luna," he said with a sigh. "Straight to brass tacks." He straightened up from his slumped position against the table, taking a step toward her, then another. _This is the moment, mate,_ he thought. His heart began pounding so hard, he was sure it was making his shirt move. "Yeah, it bothers me."

"Why?" She looked genuinely puzzled, although Harry sensed she wasn't as clueless as she would have him believe. "George is a wonderful person."

He took another step towards her. "I agree, but this isn't about George."

"Who's it about, then?"

_Here are my cards, Luna. I'm calling your bluff. _ "You." He reached out and tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear, letting his thumb linger on her pulse point. The pace of her heartbeat matched his. "It's about you, Luna." She was frozen in place, hardly breathing. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Anything." Her voice was barely a whisper.

"How is it that I never noticed how amazing you are until now?" he murmured, moving his thumb in a gentle caress. "You're so funny, and brilliant, and talented." Her breath caught in her throat audibly, her eyelids fluttering. Encouraged, Harry leaned forward and whispered into the shell of her ear. "And, I don't know if anyone's ever told you, but you're very sexy in pyjamas." She shivered, and a pleasant, tingling feeling like liquid lead settled in his belly. "And you make me feel so…" he trailed off, bringing his other hand to cup the side of her face. "You make me not want to let George Weasley touch you," he finished honestly.

"I'm just me, Harry."

"You don't get it, do you?" He frowned at her.

"No, I understand you perfectly," she said, without a trace of humour in her voice. "I just can't believe it." _I finally found_ _the one thing Luna Lovegood can't believe,_ he thought wryly. Her silver eyes reminded him of the sky in January; her hands wound around his wrists, as though she were about to pull his hands away. "Nobody ever –"

"Maybe you should put your dirigible plums back on," he interrupted. "Didn't you tell me once that they help you open your mind to the extraordinary?

She stared at him.

"Believe it," he went on, still holding her face tenderly between his hands. His lips were within mere inches of hers. A shaky breath ghosted over them. "It's true."

"Am I dreaming?" she sighed. Harry melted. _Me, the stuff of dreams? You sweet, sweet angel. _

"I don't think so." One corner of his mouth twitched. "Let's give it the Sleeping Beauty test, just to be sure." Slowly, so slowly, he lowered his lips to brush gently against hers. Her lips were soft and warm and tangy with the taste of apples; he couldn't stop himself from deepening the kiss, nibbling gently at her lower lip and then soothing the tender flesh with his tongue. She moaned softly and opened her mouth to grant him access. After a few moments, he broke the kiss, locking eyes with her. "Nope. Definitely not dreaming."

"Harry…" her tone was pleading, but the sound of his name on her lips in this context gave him the shivers. She cast about for a way to explain what she was thinking. "I've…been alone for a long time."

"It's okay." He smiled ruefully. "I'm fresh out of this messy thing with Ginny, remember?"

"There's so much about me you don't know," she persisted. He stroked her cheeks with his thumbs.

"We'll take it slow. The world is a better place than it used to be, Luna. We have time." His eyes lit up. "I've thought of something you can do for me."

"What's that?"

"Let me take you downstairs and snog you senseless. That's all I want," he added, forestalling her objection. "Just to kiss you. I've missed you all week. I want to show you just how much."

She considered him. "We'll take it slow?"

"As slow as you want," he said. She nodded, and that was all the confirmation he needed. He folded her tiny hand in his, leading her downstairs, not stopping until they were in the middle of the living room. The sun was beginning to set, and Harry was surprised and pleased to find that the painting on the walls echoed the time of day outside, if not the weather.

"See, _this_ is what I'm talking about," he explained, gesturing at the wall. "Not only is that a pretty sweet piece of magic, it's a wonderful piece of art."

"Thank you." She blushed.

He Summoned several of the throw pillows from her sofa and cast _Engorgio_ on them, creating a comfortable nest on the floor. He sat down and held his arms open. "So _that's_ what these are good for. Come here, we'll watch the stars come out." She looked nervous, but sat down next to him anyway. He gathered her firmly into his arms, giving her a little squeeze. She was trembling slightly. "Hey," he murmured, turning her chin toward him with a gentle finger along her jaw and looking into her eyes. Her pupils were dilated. "Trust me."

They reclined on the pillows slowly, carefully. Luna lay on her back, her hair pooled under her head like a multi-tonal halo, and Harry lay on his right side next to her, propped up on his elbow. As the light in the room gradually diminished, the "stars" came out on the walls and ceiling. The daisies waved silently at them. He made no immediate move to kiss her; he simply rested a hand on her stomach, warming the skin through the thin fabric of her shirt.

Finally, almost of its own accord, her hand drifted up and wrapped around the back of his neck, pulling his face down to hers. She kissed him chastely at first, all sweetness and innocence. Harry groaned, sketching lazy circles on her abdomen with his fingers. She trapped his hand suddenly, stilling his movements. "That tickles."

A predatory grin crossed his features. "Oh, really? What about this?" His hand slid over to her flank, dragging lightly over the flesh. She twitched. He wriggled his fingers. "Does this tickle?"

"Eeee! Yes!" She shrieked. "Eeeee! Stop it, Harry!" She thrashed a little, squirming against him in a way that inadvertently sent a pulse of arousal directly to his core. He trapped her wrists above her head with one hand, a determined expression on his face.

"What about this?" he said, lowering his lips to the spot he'd fantasized about, just below her ear. She smelled wonderful – soft and sweet and faintly floral, like lavender. His tongue darted out to taste her. "Does this tickle?"

"Yes," she breathed.

He nipped her lightly on the neck, eliciting a shiver. "And this?"

"Oh!" She squeaked and tilted her head back, granting him better access. He released her wrists so he could support her upper body, cradling her while he grazed up and down her throat with his teeth. Her breathing was becoming irregular. Her hands gripped his upper arms tightly.

"Mmm," he growled against her throat. Her pulse pounded against his lips. "You like that."

"Yes," she panted. He pulled back and looked into her eyes – sure enough, he could read desire there. One of her legs hooked around his waist, pulling him close. He closed his eyes for a moment, marshaling his self-control. He desired her too, but he was determined to keep his promises. When he opened his eyes again, she was watching him, looking entirely self-satisfied. She licked his lower lip, making him grind involuntarily against her. He was faintly surprised to feel her thrust back, but he supposed at this juncture, there was little point in trying to hide the fact that he was painfully hard. Her eyes were fixed on his, full of impish delight. "You like it, too."

"I do," he confessed. He captured her lips again, kissing her with increasing passion. They stayed like that for a long time, just getting used to each other in this new context, tasting and touching. "Mmm. Gods. I like this a little too much. If we're going to stop, we should probably stop," he warned her reluctantly.

"Yeah, I guess you're going to have blue balls as it is," she chirped. They looked each other in the eye. "Erec-TION," they said at the same time, dissolving into hysterical laughter. Neither of them moved, though. His hand wandered down to rest on her thigh.

"I – " Harry began, but he was interrupted by a spectral silver lynx that bounded in through the window. It opened its mouth and spoke in Kingsley Shacklebolt's voice.

"All Aurors please report immediately to the Ministry of Magic," it intoned. They waited for more, but the lynx disappeared in a puff of nothingness.

"That can't be good," Harry said, straightening his shirt and running his hands through his mussed hair (not that it really made a difference). "It's nearly midnight on a Friday." He stood up hastily, pulling Luna to her feet as well. "I have to go," he said unnecessarily.

Just then, a raven Patronus sailed into the room, unimpeded by the solid wall that it passed through. "All Unspeakables please report immediately to the Ministry of Magic," said a voice that Harry didn't recognize. He exchanged a glance with Luna.

"I'd better get dressed," she said.


	4. Dance

**Chapter 4 – Dance (Or, It's Hot in Here)**

By the time they got to the meeting at the Ministry, nearly everyone had beaten them – even Ron, who was quite put out at having to leave his new wife at home on "personal time", as he was heard grumbling. "He's got 'guilty hair'," Luna whispered in Harry's ear, cutting her eyes at Ron as they entered the main DMLE conference room.

He grinned at her, catching her meaning instantly. "So do I," he said out of the corner of his mouth. She gave him another one of her too-obvious winks. The entire Auror department was seated around a huge conference table – Dawlish, Proudfoot, Williamson, Savage, and the head of the Auror department, Gawain Robards. Dawlish was responsible for training the junior Aurors (which Harry and Ron would be for another year), Proudfoot and Savage were the "beat cops", and Williamson was the forensic magic specialist.

The Unspeakable contingent was surprisingly small. The head, Martin Croaker, whose Patronus had flown through Luna's wall, was seated at the opposite end of the table from Robards. Other than that, there was Luna herself, a tall, willowy woman whom Harry recognized as Daphne Greengrass, and a former prefect from Percy Weasley's year, Penelope Clearwater.

Luckily, the last two open seats around the table were next to each other. Ron narrowed his eyes at Harry as he sank into the chair across from him, mouthing _what took you so long?_

Harry's eyes slid over to Luna, then back again. _Busy_, he mouthed. Ron's eyebrows disappeared into his hair. Harry couldn't help grinning.

"Gentlemen," came a booming voice from the doorway. "And ladies." Kingsley strode into the room. His usual calm, smooth façade was in place, but Harry knew from long experience with the man that he was stressed. Lines of tension bracketed his mouth and creased his forehead. "We've had an interesting development this evening."

"It'd better be more than interesting, Shacklebolt," Croaker groused from his seat. "I've summoned them as a personal favour to you, but I don't fancy disturbing my Fates on a Friday night over something that should be a DMLE concern, I'll have you know." Evidently, Croaker and Shacklebolt knew each other well; there was no way Croaker would have addressed the Minister of Magic in such a tone otherwise.

"Actually, Croaker, this is more likely to be a matter for your Fates, as you call them, than for us," Robards piped up. "We just want to take first crack at this thing, to make sure there's nothing Dark involved."

"What thing?" Harry leaned across the table, looking interested.

"This…thing…popped out of the Planet Room today," Williamson said, putting a book in the centre of the table with a dramatic flourish.

"I believe those 'things' are called _books,_ Williamson," Harry chuckled.

"Oh, is that what you see? Interesting." Williamson pulled out a notebook and jotted that down. "What do you see, Lovegood?"

"A knife," she replied, gazing with interest at the object on the table.

"That's four for four," Williamson said, sounding satisfied, "So far, everyone I've asked about this object has perceived it to be something different. I just finished checking it over for fingerprints, magical signatures, traces, et cetera." He shook his head, making his long, brown ponytail waggle. "Nothing. It's like it just popped into existence. It's not been created by any known Muggle or magical process." He looked around the room. "I'm going to want to interview you all, to get your first impressions of the object."

"I apologize for rousing you all from your Friday evenings," Kingsley said, eyeing Ron, "but it is not at all usual for such…artifacts…to just pop out of the Planet Room. We need to be very sure that this is not a Dark object before we hand it over to be studied, and that it poses no immediate risk to anyone," he explained. "Gawain, what do you think?"

Robards considered. "I dinna think there is anything to fear from it, Kingsley," the Scot said, rubbing his chin. "I dinna feel any sort of compulsion enchantments or such from it, anyhow. We'll have to give it a thorough check-over, though, and I think the safest bet would be to assign one of my men to work wi' your girls on this."

Croaker glared at the head Auror, irritated that he had denigrated his Unspeakables by calling them "girls." "Luna," he growled, not taking his eyes off Robards. "This is suited to your talents, I think."

"And yours, Potter," Robards added. "Ye're the only one of us who's come back from the dead, aye? Seems to me ye're the natural choice to work wi' an Unspeakable." He eyed Croaker with obvious dislike. "Otherwise, as Williamson said, it's not really a DMLE concern." He switched his gaze to Dawlish. "What say ye, John? Can ye spare him?"

"You're not getting out of helping me with those budgets, Potter," Dawlish growled. "But I agree, it does seem like your purview, doesn't it."

Harry was internally doing a happy dance. Not only did he have a standing date with Luna for Friday nights, but he was going to spend part of his work day with her, too. All in all, this was the single most rewarding after-hours work meeting he had ever attended. He dared a glance at her; her profile was calm, her features set. His eyes drifted to that spot under her ear, remembering what they had been doing less than an hour ago…

"Hello? Potter?" Dawlish looked annoyed. "Will you take this on?" Harry looked around sheepishly, realizing that the entire table had turned to watch him, waiting for his answer. He glanced once at Luna, then back at Dawlish.

"Yeah, John, I think I can fit it in," he said.

There was little to discuss after that. "I'll take this for safekeeping," Williamson said, scooping up the not-book from the middle of the table. "Lovegood, I'll drop this off at your desk when I'm done with it, probably Monday afternoon." He hugged it possessively to his chest, scurrying away.

"Odd duck, that one," Ron said, shaking his head. Harry saw Luna shoot Ron a _look_ – not a dirty look, necessarily, but he still wouldn't want her to look at _him_ like that. It was over in a moment, but it renewed his impression that her serene expression not only masked a deeply sensitive person, but an extremely powerful one, as well.

"Hey, little Atropos," he said to her, once everyone else had left. "Knut for your thoughts."

Her silver eyes turned to him. "What makes you think I'm Atropos?"

"You saw a knife," he said. "Atropos is the Fate who cuts the threads of life, isn't she?"

Luna smiled. "Martin is referring to Plato's _Republic_, actually. The Fates are a chorus who sing with the Sirens. Lachesis, the weaver, is an historian – she sings of things that were. Atropos is the prophet – she sings of things that will be."

Harry hummed thoughtfully. "And Clotho?"

"I think of her as the scientist. She spins the thread of life, and sings of things that are."

He had to admit that it was an apt metaphor. Luna's natural honesty was discomfiting only because it spoke of things that were – things that other people wanted to ignore. She was never cruel, but she _was_ unflinchingly, unfailingly truthful. The truth, as Harry well knew, was cruel enough in itself. "That's you."

"Yes." Her air was oddly distant – he wondered if this was her "professional face", because they were at work. But they were alone, and everyone but the security guards had fled the building for the weekend. _Oh, shit,_ Harry thought. Just when she'd been so heartbreakingly, beautifully vulnerable with him, her walls had slammed back down again. He decided to try an old Auror trick, to see if he could work his way back in. He looked deeply into her eyes, probing around the edges of her consciousness with Legilimency; she stared back at him, unblinking, a stone wall. There was no penetrating her defenses.

_Nice try._ Her voice echoed sweetly in his head. _Want to try again?_

_Figures she's an Occlumens and a Legilimens,_ _too,_ Harry thought. _Bloody Ravenclaws._ "Help me out, here, Luna," he said. "I can't figure out what you're thinking."

She cast a glance at Ron's now-empty seat. "I just – I saw Ron's face when you told him you were 'busy' with me. Your best friend doesn't think much of 'odd ducks,' does he?" Silver eyes pinned him to his seat.

"Ron's an arse," he grunted, embarrassed.

Luna frowned. "I used to think maybe if I didn't show people like Ron how much it hurt me when they called me 'Loony' and laughed at me and stole my stuff, then maybe they'd stop. But they don't stop, Harry. They don't ever stop, because it's not about you. It's about them." She looked incredibly sad, but took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. "Ron's not going to stop judging me for being me, Harry," she told him. "It's not good or bad, it's just part of who he is. And he's your best friend. I know his opinion matters to you."

"Not that much," he said quickly.

She raised an eyebrow. "Listen, Harry, when you asked me to dinner with you last week, you made it very clear that it was just as friends. And as wonderful as it was, I can remember a time, not so long ago, when we had another date as friends. You asked me to Slughorn's party because it was convenient for you, and then ditched me. I can't help wondering if the same type of thing is going to happen again. I don't want to go through that a second time."

All colour drained from Harry's face. "Oh, Luna…"

She laughed humourlessly. "The worst part was when I pointed out a bunch of mistletoe, and you jumped out from under it like I'd lit you on fire."

He cringed. _Oh, fuck. I had totally forgotten about that._

"When I'm alone with you…" She trailed off and shook her head, unwilling to share the rest of that thought, although he was dying to hear it. "I thought you just wanted a friend, but apparently kissing me doesn't seem like such a horrible idea to you anymore. You asked me to trust you, and you also told me we'd take things slow, which implies that this is going somewhere. But I've been alone for a long time because I've discovered I'd rather be lonely than heartbroken," she finished quietly. "So, before you ask me to trust you, make sure you understand what it is you're asking me to do." She got up from the table and drifted toward the door.

"Luna, wait." He was out of his seat, pursuing her.

"Just think about it, Harry. Please." She didn't turn to look at him as she left the room.

He stared at the air where she'd been for a long time. _You've got some amends to make, mate,_ he thought to himself.

* * *

Luna spent all of Saturday morning trying to meditate. It was the only way she could keep herself calm, and even then, it was difficult to maintain the necessary blankness of mind for long. She kept replaying her recent experiences with Harry over and over in her mind. Harry, looking bashful in pyjamas, holding ribbons and almonds…green eyes, holding her paralyzed while all the things she'd ever wanted to hear fell from his lips…

_Fuck. This isn't working._ She looked out the window. _I have to get out. _

* * *

"I have a special order for you," Harry said, kneeling on the hearth in his flat with his head engulfed in green flames. "I want something custom made for me." He waited for the voice on the other end to finish speaking. "I'm going to have to sketch it out for you, it's too hard to describe over the Floo. Have you got time this afternoon?"

* * *

Luna sighed. She was swimming naked in a pond hidden in a nearby grove of trees, basking in the beautiful late spring afternoon. It was far enough from the village that few people ever used it as a swimming hole; it had been one of her favourite places to play as a child, a spot to find frogs and watch the birds. She floated on her back, staring up at the fragments of blue sky visible through the treetops. The summer solstice was not far off; it was shady under the trees, but the little patches of sunlight that dappled her skin were intensely warm. She closed her eyes for a moment when a cool breeze sliced through the grove, rustling the leaves and piquing the flesh of her nipples.

_Heal me, _she thought at the landscape around her. She had discovered that there were places in the world, usually out in nature, where the veil between this world and the world unseen had been worn thin. These places were incredibly powerful at restoring balance to the mind, body, and spirit. The grove was such a place – she could feel the tension leaching from her bones, washed away by the water that lapped at her exposed skin.

_You don't need him to be happy,_ spoke up a tiny voice from the back of her mind. _You'll be okay._

_That doesn't mean it doesn't make me happy to be with him, _she retorted. _No, no, no, this is not what I came here to do. _She re-focused her attention on the water as it caressed her curves. _Don't think, Luna. Just feel._

* * *

"They're shaped kind of like radishes," Harry explained, dragging a quill over a piece of parchment. "Kind of like this, you see?"

The goblin nodded, drumming his talons impatiently on the glass display case Harry was using as a desk. "I am familiar with them, Mr. Potter."

"Good. How fast can you do this?"

"A week, at least."

"And if I offer you a generous commission?"

"How generous?"

"Name it."

The goblin considered it. "Fifty percent?"

Harry raised an eyebrow – it was a steep price – but he didn't have the time to wait. He did, however, have money. _Worth it_, a little voice whispered in his mind. "Only if they're ready by tomorrow."

The goblin grinned nastily. "Done."

* * *

Luna left the grove just after dusk with a calm, clear mind and sun-kissed skin. No matter how rattled, she could usually find her peace in nature, and she was pleased that the old coping mechanism had worked. She donned her pyjamas and ate a simple dinner of bacon sandwiches and Butterbeer in the kitchen, devouring a book on string theory that her Canadian friend, Michael Burns, had sent to her. The dedication on the flyleaf read_: To Luna – the only non-physicist I've ever met who can make sense of the beautiful chaos. Love, Mike. _

She ruthlessly pushed the fact that Harry would be working with her to the back of her mind, diving greedily into the depths of knowledge in the text, losing herself in the symmetrical beauty of nature. She dragged the book up to bed with her, reading until she nodded off, and slept well that night, dreaming of Planck-length vibrations and quantum foam.

When she woke up on Sunday morning, the weather had turned hot and sticky. She immediately shed her pyjamas and took a lukewarm shower. Afterward, she towel-dried her hair, but left the water to evaporate from her skin to cool her. It was too hot for clothes in general, so she decided to walk around naked.

Luna bummed around in the nude all morning, just enjoying the quiet in her mind, drinking tea and watching _The Sound of Music_ on her DVD player. She loved the sweet, old-fashioned innocence of the Muggle love story, and the flickering light of the television put her mind in a neutral gear, allowing everything she'd absorbed from her reading to simmer and percolate in her unconscious. She wished she'd bought a home theatre earlier, in fact. It might have helped her through those long nights after she got the owl about her father.

Eventually, a rumble in her stomach forced her back to the kitchen. _Tea is not a complete breakfast,_ she reminded herself. She decided to just snack on some cheese and fruit, and put off cooking until the sun went down and the house cooled off, since each Cooling Charm she cast had worn off faster than the last. She turned on the wireless in the kitchen, tuning it to a Wizarding station that was popular with young people in the magical world. In recent years, they'd begun playing a mix of Wizarding and Muggle music, and Lee Jordan had started doing the morning show, so Luna had been listening more. As it happened, a fun pop song that she really liked was playing, with a driving pop-and-slap bass line and funky vocals. Still naked, she started bopping to the beat, pointing her wand at the block of cheese and charming it to cut itself. She wasn't a musician herself – her creative talent tended to come out in her paintings, and she was a decent writer, too – but she found she still responded strongly to music. Sad songs would sometimes move her to tears, and happy songs inevitably cheered her up and made her want to dance. She knew she was a dreadful dancer, but she never let that stop her, because it felt good anyway. She twirled over to the fruit bowl, letting her hair stream out around her. She was completely oblivious to the pair of green eyes watching her through the window.

Harry had knocked at the door several times, but there had been no answer, and he wasn't going to let her pretend she wasn't home. Hearing the faint thud of a bass line emanating from the kitchen, he had wandered around back, and peeped in the window to find Luna with every inch of her ivory-gold skin exposed, getting down with her bad self in the kitchen. As he watched, she rocked her hips and shimmied to the music, her blonde waves bouncing all around and tickling her bottom, and his heart kicked into overdrive. Perspiration pricked on his upper lip and forehead; it was hot out in the full sun, even in the white cotton tee shirt and khaki cargo shorts that he was wearing. The small, flat, gold-wrapped package he was carrying threatened to slip from his sweaty palms, although he doubted _that_ had anything to do with the sun. He stuffed it in his pocket and rested his hands on the wall, leaning into the window for a better view. Her arse was, quite frankly, everything he'd hoped for – high and round, toned, but with just enough feminine jiggle to make him shiver. She twirled again, spinning over to the cupboard with the plates, and he got an eyeful of her breasts. They were not overly large, but delicately curved, tipped in golden-pink skin that made his mouth water. Between them, however, was a sight that made him suck his breath in like a punch to the gut.

A jagged, livid white curse scar ran from her breastbone to her navel, similar to the one he had on his forehead, but much longer and wider. _The Department of Mysteries,_ he remembered. _She was hit with a curse in the Department of Mysteries that knocked her out. She got that fighting with me. _It was flat and shiny with age, like an old surgical scar, and he realized that she had probably used magical methods of healing that would improve its appearance. He had always liked his own scar, believing it lent him a rakish, daring appearance, but he imagined that Luna might be self-conscious about hers. Not that she needed to be; it was a badge of courage, he thought – the mark of battle-tested bravery. A fresh wave of guilt crashed over him as he considered their last conversation. _Before you ask me to trust you, make sure you understand what it is you're asking me to do._

He understood now. He only regretted he hadn't put it all together before. _She really is a genius,_ he thought. _No wonder she seems so crazy to the rest of us._ His heart swelled as he watched her bump and grind. There was no one and nothing that could keep him away from her, he realized. Coming back from the dead had taught him the secret she already knew: that life was as gossamer a construct as an insect's wing, delicate and finite. There were other realms to explore when this life came to a close, but for now, nothing remained but to _really live_ – to squeeze all the joy and pleasure out of this existence for as long as it lasted. The naked witch in the kitchen knew how to do just that. There was time enough to take it as slow as she needed, to let things bloom like a flower between them, but not enough time to waste on other people's judgments and preoccupations. He thought of Ron and shook his head. _If you could see her dance naked in the kitchen, mate, maybe then you'd understand. _

Not wanting to be caught peeping in the window like a pervert, Harry walked back around to the front of the house. He pounded on the door with a fist and called out as loudly as he could. "Luna?"

The wireless clicked off abruptly, and tiny footfalls shuffled up to the door. "Harry?"

"Yeah." He leaned against the doorframe. "Can I come in?"

"I'm naked," she admitted.

_I know._ "Shockingly, I'm okay with this," he teased. "C'mon. Please?"

She paused. "Give me a second?"

A moment later, she wrenched the door open, the fuzzy throw blanket she kept on the back of the sofa wrapped around her midsection like a towel. Her hair was mussed and extra-wavy from the humidity and her little dance routine, her eyes extra-wide with embarrassment. Knowing that she was in the altogether under that little blanket was doing ridiculous things to Harry's insides. "Hey," he said quietly. "What are you up to?"

"Just about to have a snack," she replied.

"In the nude?" He swept his eyes down and up her body, just once.

"It's hot in here," she defended.

_I'll say._ "Can we talk?"

"Let me just put some clothes on." She headed up the stairs.

_No, don't._ "Okay. I'll just wait here."

She was back in a few minutes, wearing her favourite blue tee shirt and a pair of denim shorts. "Hey," she said, descending the staircase again. Harry looked up from where he was sitting on the sofa.

"Hey," he returned. She lingered at the foot of the staircase, holding on to the railing as though the wind were about to blow her away. Harry patted the seat next to him. "Come here," he invited. She just stared at him, a watchful expression on her face. _Gods, she's so scared of me._

"I've been thinking," he started. He got up from the sofa, walking slowly over to her. "I can't sleep for thinking, actually."

"And?" She tilted her head, taking in the dark circles under his eyes.

"I…" He looked away, then back, and licked his lips. "You were right." She blanched and looked very ill for a moment, but Harry ignored it and pressed on, because she would understand in a moment. "I asked you to trust me without ever actually thinking through what that meant, and for that I am sorry."

She closed her eyes momentarily and took a deep breath, opening her mouth to speak. He pressed a finger across her lips, silencing her. "You are…" He broke off, his mouth trembling slightly. "I'm not sure how much you want from me, Luna, but however much it is, I want to give it. I know I've hurt you," he muttered. "Believe me, I've wracked my brain, thinking about how I'm gonna fix this. Maybe I'll apply for a Time Turner to go back a few years and snog you senseless the _first_ time the opportunity presented itself."

"Harry…" Her lips moved soundlessly against his lingering finger in the still, hot air.

"Robards was right. When you die and come back, you understand things that other people don't understand." He pulled away and reached into his pocket, thrusting the little gold-wrapped package into her hands. "Things like this. Open it."

She sat down on the stairs silently and stuck a finger under the edge of the gift wrap, lifting up with a soft ripping sound. She gave him a curious glance when she saw the emblem embossed on the lid of the box – the trademark of the goblin jeweler in Diagon Alley.

"Go on," Harry encouraged. "I had them made just for you."

She lifted the lid and gasped, her eyes filling with tears. Nestled on a velvet cushion inside was a pair of gold drop earrings in the shape of miniature dirigible plums. "I told the goblin I wanted something you wouldn't have to take off at night," he said, indicating the lever-back closures with a gentle forefinger. "You told me you get all your best ideas in your sleep, so…" Huge, tear-filled quicksilver eyes watched his every move. "Also, as they're goblin-wrought, they only take in what makes them stronger." He slipped the box out of her hand and pressed a kiss to each of the little golden plums. "There," he said. "Now they're ready for you to wear."

"Oh, Harry!" Luna sniffled. He liberated the tiny ornaments from their package and knelt in front of her on the stairs, placing them in her pierced earlobes and snapping the closures shut carefully. He conjured a mirror with a whispered _Speculum _and held it up for her.

"Like them?"

She nodded. He put the mirror down and opened his arms; she folded herself into him, pressing her face into his neck. "Thank you," she whispered.

He squeezed her. "Least I could do," he whispered back. She pulled back and looked into his eyes. The air in the room shifted suddenly and their physical proximity overwhelmed Harry, leaving him slightly dizzy and shaking with nervousness. Butterflies filled his stomach. "Luna –"

She cut him off by attacking his mouth with a kiss that stole his breath and left him panting and shaking. All of the arousal he'd felt while watching her dance in the kitchen surged back into his veins. _Oh, gods, I want you,_ he thought. He suckled and nibbled at her lower lip, wringing a sigh from her depths. "Let me take you somewhere more comfortable," he suggested. She smiled and nodded, so he scooped her up into his arms and carried her to the living room, laying her down in the middle of the rug. With a quick _Accio_ and _Engorgio_, he re-created their nest in the daisies, tucking pillows tenderly all around her. She pulled him down eagerly to lie next to her, peppering hungry little kisses along his jaw and nipping once, fiercely, at his earlobe. His skin prickled into goosebumps and he groaned.

"You like that," she whispered wickedly. Harry groaned again and devoured her mouth.

He worked his way down her throat with teeth and tongue next, savouring the salty taste of her. Luna's tiny hands came down to the hem of his tee shirt and slid underneath it after only a moment's hesitation, pressing hotly against his back, grasping the sweat-slicked skin as she sucked greedily on his tongue. He imagined them without the barrier of clothing, and the thought made him throb painfully. He broke the kiss for a moment and shucked his shirt, throwing it hastily to one side. He hoped she liked what she saw; Auror training kept him in good physical shape, at least. Those hot little hands slid over his chest, feeling the soft planes of the muscles under his skin and the small, springy patch of hair that dusted the region between his nipples. He slid his hands down to the hem of her shirt, tugging gently upward with a look that said _may I?_

"Harry." She stiffened underneath him.

"I'm sorry," he apologized quickly. "Do you want me to stop?"

"No," she replied emphatically, just as quickly. "It's just that – you should probably know, before you – I h-have a –"

He waited, letting her reveal her secret in her own time, even though he already knew it.

"I have a scar," she whispered.

"So do I," he murmured in her ear, punctuating the remark with a kiss to the point of her jaw. "What's your point?"

"From the Department of Mysteries. It's ugly." She looked away, ashamed.

"Hey." He turned her chin back toward him with a gentle caress. She was so vulnerable and open to him, the light of her soul glowing in her eyes and blinding him. "I don't care. It's part of you. Whatever _you_ are, Luna, that's what I want." His fingers lightly brushed the tiny strip of exposed skin between the waistband of her shorts and the hem of her shirt. He locked his gaze with hers. She sighed and nodded imperceptibly, raising her arms. He grasped the thin fabric and pulled, peeling it off over her head.

Up close, the scar was no more shocking than it had been at a distance. She obviously took good care of her skin, and he was quite sure she had used dittany on it. He laid a tender hand on her solar plexus. "That must have hurt," he said simply.

"It still aches sometimes," she confessed. "When the weather gets cold."

His head dipped to drop a kiss between his fingers. "Better?"

Her breath caught in her throat and she arched her back. He couldn't resist sliding a hand over her breast, smoothing the skin, letting the erect nipple tickle his palm. She gasped when he lowered his head and took her nipple into his mouth, bringing her hands up to twine in his hair and hold him there. He applied his teeth carefully, eliciting a little squeal. "Ohh. Oh, my gods."

Harry reached back up to her mouth, passion inflamed by her sexy little squeaks and groans. They both got temporarily lost in the feeling of their bare skin pressed together. Her breasts tickled his chest, driving him half-mad with desire. "You. Are. So. Sexy." Each word was punctuated with a little peck at her mouth.

"Who, me?"

"You see anybody else around here?"

"Well, that would be awkward, now wouldn't it?"

"Mmm." His hand slid up to her other breast, tweaking and teasing. His head followed his hands, leaving a trail of licks and nibbles. "I mean it, though."

"So are you, you know," Luna said dreamily.

"Oh, yeah?" He glanced up. "What makes me so sexy?"

"Well, your eyes, for one thing." She sighed. "I've never seen eyes that shade of green."

"They're my mother's eyes, people say."

"No, they're_ your_ eyes." She paused. "I like the way they look at me."

_I want to do considerably more to you than just look, beautiful,_ Harry thought. All coherent thoughts were wiped out, however, when she rolled suddenly so she was straddling him. He cupped a breast in each hand as she leaned down to kiss him, her hair forming a wavy blond curtain of privacy around their faces. He throbbed. Knowing that her most intimate regions were only separated from his by a few scraps of cloth made him want to tear off their remaining clothes and dive into her like an ocean. _Have a little self-control, Potter,_ he told himself sternly. "We should probably stop," he moaned. "I'm – I'm having a h-hard time holding on -" she ground against him, making him suck in his breath sharply with a muttered "Oh, sweet _Merlin._"

"I thought you said you were willing to give me whatever I want," she whispered, grinding against him again to illustrate her meaning. "This is what I want, Harry."

"Are you sure? We don't have to rush." He searched her face, looking for any trace of fear or regret or pain. There was none. Lust simmered in her eyes, and he could see himself reflected in them, his own lust mirrored back to him.

She responded by dropping her hands to the waistband of his shorts. She slipped a finger between the fabric and his skin, tickling him slightly, and threw him the single most suggestive look he'd ever seen on her sweet, innocent features. He throbbed again. "I'm sure."

The rest of their clothes came off in a hurry. _So this is what it's like to have a fantasy come true,_ Harry thought. He had thought she might be a virgin, but she said nothing about it, and there was no trace of pain or hesitation as they joined together – just pleasure, and desire, and acceptance. The taste and feel and sound of her was better than he remembered things being with Ginny, or any of the brief encounters he'd had during the off-again portions of their long, on-again, off-again relationship. He'd had plenty of sex in his life, but he thought this might be the first time that he had ever actually _made love_. That was the proper word for it; she had burrowed under his skin, and there was emotion building around the intrusion, like a pearl – growing and shimmering.

"Harry!" They were all tangled up in each other, writhing and sweaty in the middle of the floor. "Oh, my gods, Harry!"

"Let go, babe," he whispered. "It's okay. Let go."

She took him with her.

* * *

Afterward, they lay curled up in their nest of pillows for a long time, her head resting on his chest, his hand rubbing absently up and down her arm.

"Will you stay tonight?" Harry looked down at her, peeping up at him through the tangled blonde waves that hung in her eyes. Smiling, he brushed a lock behind her ear.

"If you want me to. I might just Floo home real quick to get some clothes for work tomorrow and my toothbrush, though."

"As long as you come back," she said meaningfully.

"I don't think I could stay away," he chuckled. "You're addictive, you know. You should come with a warning label."

"Too late."

"Far, far too late." He kissed her deeply, only breaking the kiss when her stomach growled and they both laughed. "You never did have your snack. Come on, get dressed. We'll go out for lunch."


	5. Sleepwalking

**A/N: I don't think the section breaks have been sticking properly, so I've changed them in this chapter. A big thanks to everybody out there for your reviews, favourites, and story alert subscriptions. I'm truly honoured (and having far, far too much fun writing this).**

**Chapter 5 – Sleepwalking (Or, Can't Stop Dreaming About You)**

Harry and Luna ate a quick lunch at the Leaky Cauldron and decided to wander up and down Diagon Alley to pass the afternoon. Her hand slipped naturally into his as they walked, and Harry couldn't help but notice that they got more than a few glances and behind-the-hands whispers from other passers-by who recognized them. He was sure Luna noticed as well – she noticed _everything_ – but neither of them commented on it. _It's okay, _Harry thought._ People can just tell that we're in love. _He knew it was too soon to speak that word out loud, but he enjoyed using it in secret inside his head. It kept him warm.

As it was a Sunday, some of the shops were not open, but Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes was a brightly-coloured beacon at the end of the street, doors flung wide and bustling with customers – mostly Hogwarts students loading up early for the coming school year. "Let's go see George!" Luna suggested, pointing.

Harry's green-eyed chest monster still hadn't recovered from the wedding, but he reluctantly let Luna lead him toward the orange-and-magenta chaos that was George's livelihood anyhow. When they were almost to the door, he tugged on her hand to stop her. "Babe, can I ask you a question?"

"Anything," she replied, grinning at the inside joke the phrase "can I ask you a question" had become for them.

"When you danced with George at the wedding…" Harry frowned deeply. "He said something to you, and you gave him a hug."

Luna looked mildly exasperated. "Harry, you really don't need to worry."

"I know that," he mumbled. "I was just wondering what he said to you."

"Oh." She smiled. "He said, 'you have every right to be here, you know'."

Relief flooded his gut. "Oh. Is that all?"

Luna gave him a knowing look. "No. Actually, he was telling me how he wanted to throw me down on the dance floor and shag me," she teased. "He was going to –"

"Okay, _okay_," Harry interrupted. "I get the point." She just giggled merrily and tugged on his hand.

Inside the store, things were just as psychotic as they appeared from the street. It was packed to the rafters with shoppers, noise, and explosions of colour. George looked up from the till, where he was ringing through a sullen-looking boy who'd purchased the mother lode of Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder. "Heeeeeyyyyy, it's Harry and Luna!" He glanced at their joined hands and back up to their faces. "Verity, you got this?" he yelled, indicating the massive queue at the till.

"I hate you," she sang sweetly, handing change to a giggling young witch with a love potion clutched in her hands.

"That's why the sex is so good," George replied. "Back in a jiffy."

"You shouldn't say things like that to your employees, George," Luna commented when he came over to them. "She could report you to the Ministry for harassment."

"Verity and I have been putting the 'ass' back in 'harassment' since 1999," George chuckled, waggling his eyebrows meaningfully. "Trust me, it's fine."

Luna shot Harry a triumphant glance that clearly said _told you so._

"You kept that quiet, mate." Harry couldn't hide his genuine surprise.

"People talk."

"Not you, for once."

"Get stuffed, Potter." George grinned broadly. "We're just friends."

"You're _awfully nice_ to your friends, George," Luna chimed.

"Get stuffed, Lovegood." The redhead's wise-arse grin now threatened to crack his face in two. "I have needs. She has needs. It works. End of story. You're one to talk, anyhow." He made a _see-what-I-mean?_ noise and gestured at the two of them.

"Yeah, well." Harry coughed. "We're not just friends." Luna beamed at him, and a silly smile broke out across his face in response.

"Oh, vomit," George groaned. "So, what are you lovebirds up to today?"

"Absolutely nothing," Luna said. "It's glorious."

"Lazy bitch."

"That's _crazy_ bitch, Weasley," she retorted. Both men busted up at this.

"I was right," Harry laughed, shaking his head. "Luna, I have seriously underestimated you."

"I'll educate you later," she promised. George guffawed as Harry blushed. "Anyway, we just came to say hello."

"I'm honoured that you took the time out of your busy schedule," he cracked. "You'll have to come by around closing time one night, you two. We'll go to the Cauldron and have a Butterbeer, yeah?"

Harry turned to her as soon as they were out of earshot. "You knew! Why didn't you just tell me?"

"It wasn't my secret to share," Luna replied. "Besides, it was obvious, if you know what to look for." They were strolling slowly down the Alley to Florean Fortescue's, enjoying the sunny afternoon.

"Like what?"

"Well," Luna said thoughtfully, "haven't you ever noticed that when they're both at the till, if George has to squeeze past her, he puts his hands on her waist? A friend would be more likely to touch you on the arm or shoulder. A touch on the waist is quite intimate, really."

Harry gaped at her, dumbstruck. He had honestly never noticed, but once Luna mentioned it, it _was_ obvious. "Gods, you don't miss a trick, do you?"

"The symbol of Ravenclaw house isn't an eagle for no reason." She shrugged. "The key is to perceive without judgment. And when you can't do that, and what you see disappoints you," she continued, "remember that everyone acts from a place that makes sense to them." Her words were characteristically vague, but he caught the underlying message – _I forgive you._

"How do you do that?" Harry asked, staring at her tenderly. "Look at people so objectively like that, after everything you've been through? How can you not judge?"

"Oh, I forget sometimes," she assured him. "It takes practice. Nobody can be that calm and objective all the time." They had reached the door of the ice cream parlour. "Are you going to let me pay this time?"

"Nope." They placed their order, a sundae with the works for Harry and a simple vanilla cone for Luna. "Are you sure you don't want more than that?"

"It's my favourite," she told him. "I like to keep it simple."

They walked out of Diagon Alley and into Muggle London, headed for Harry's flat. Luna licked around the perimeter of her cone, making him stare. As always, she took the time to really enjoy the taste. Her little pink tongue darted out to catch a sweet, melting drip, and suddenly, he was in a hurry to get her back to his place. _Or her place. Someplace with a bed._

XoXoXoXoXoX

The door to Harry's flat had barely closed behind them before he pressed her up against the wall, capturing her lips in a passionate kiss. "Mmm. You taste good," he mumbled against her mouth, licking her lower lip. One of her tiny hands reached down and caressed him through his shorts, making him draw in his breath with a hiss.

"Hello," she quipped. Her tone was richly suggestive.

His eyes crinkled in a smile. "Hello," he replied, thrusting against her hand.

"Ooh. You're frisky."

"Maybe a little."

"Hmm." She kissed him again, long and slow and lingering. "Going to do something about it?"

His hand swept up her leg, caressing her inner thigh and brushing casually against the crotch of her denim shorts, teasing her as she had teased him. He grinned mischievously. "Maybe."

She bucked her hips a little, encouraging him, which was the last straw. He picked her up and carried her into the bedroom, settling her gently in the centre of the bed, and clambered up next to her. With a flick of his wand and a muttered incantation, he divested her of her clothes. "You're so beautiful," he murmured, relishing the sight of her naked body laid out before him, warm and pliant and willing. "So beautiful, and you don't even know." He ran his hands all over her, making her sigh and arch into his touch, eyes closed. "I want to touch every square inch of your skin."

"Shockingly, I'm okay with this."

Harry snickered. _I'd better watch what I say around her, _he thought._ Might come back to bite me if I'm not careful. Careful…oh, shit! _He froze, eyes wide. "Oh, shit. Luna, we forgot to – erm –" he made a vague gesture with his hand. "You know –"

"Relax, Harry." She smiled. "I'm good with wordless _and_ wandless spells, remember? I cast the Contraceptive Charm last time, don't worry."

He heaved a heavy sigh of relief. "Smart."

"I see my reputation precedes me."

"Come here, sexy. I want to give you a different sort of reputation." He cradled her face in his hands, kissing her passionately.

"You're wearing too many clothes," she complained when they came up for air. She brushed a lock of messy black hair back from his forehead.

Harry's emerald eyes twinkled at her. "Oh, no. I did that on purpose."

"Tease."

"You say that like it's a _bad_ thing."He shimmied down the bed until he was lying on his stomach between her thighs.

"Erm." She looked embarrassed. "Are you sure you want to do that? Nobody ever –"

"Are you kidding?" Harry was shocked. "I mean, I know you weren't a virgin or anything, but –"

"I've slept with two men," Luna sighed, "other than you. One was just a one-time thing, and it never came up."

"And the other?"

Luna blushed. "He…he told me he didn't like the way I smelled."

Harry just stared. _I want to kill the bastard who said that to you. You're a goddess._ "What a fucking moron," he declared with disgust, shaking his head. "I guess some people just can't appreciate the finer things in life." He shook his head. "And this…" He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her most intimate place. "This is definitely one of them." To prove his point, he nuzzled her and inhaled deeply. "Mmmm."

She twitched and gasped. "Oooh. A-are you sure?"

He glanced up with a lascivious grin before lowered his face back to the apex of her thighs.

XoXoXoXoXoX

They made love, passionately, for the rest of the afternoon. The second time around, there was less nervousness, and more frank curiosity about each other. They experimented, learning each other's bodies and the kinds of touch that gave the most pleasure. It was erotic and sensual – and _fun._ Neither could ever remember having so much fun in bed. Eventually, the afternoon gave way to early evening, which found them lying sated in each other's arms, talking quietly and half-dozing.

"What do you want for supper?" Luna asked, running her hand idly over his chest.

"I've already eaten."

"Arse." She swatted him once, lightly, and they both chuckled. "No, really."

He thought for a moment. "Actually, I could do with some Italian food." His belly growled, as if in agreement. "Yup. Hear that? It's demanding lasagna."

"What else does it say?" Luna laid her ear against his abdomen, staring into his eyes with a look of mock-studiousness.

_I love you. _"It says, 'get her to go about half a foot lower and turn her face to the left.'"

She laughed long and loud. Rising from their nest in the sheets, she stretched her arms above her head and yawned. "So, where are we going to eat, then?"

"I thought I'd cook, actually." As he watched, she padded across the thick carpet to his closet, where she pulled one of his dress shirts off its hanger and wrapped it around herself. It was much too large for her, and made her look so damn delectable that Harry was tempted to drag her back into bed.

"Really? I thought you hated cooking." She lifted her long hair out of the back of the shirt, letting it drop in a messy blonde curtain over her shoulders.

"I hated cooking for the Dursleys," he replied, "mostly because they never appreciated it. Well, that, and I rarely got to eat a proper meal there, even if I made it." He swung his legs over the side of the bed and moved to the dresser, pulling on a clean pair of boxer-briefs. "But if you're cooking with me, I think I could learn to enjoy it." He looked her up and down and smirked. "Especially if all you're wearing is one of my shirts."

As it turned out, Harry did have all the required ingredients for lasagna. "I've never made one," Luna said, poking interestedly at the hard, flat noodles. "How do we do this?"

Harry showed her, and before long, they were sitting at his kitchen table, tucking into what Luna considered a gourmet dinner. "Harry, you can really cook," she said, closing her eyes in bliss. "Thank you, it's amazing."

"Anything for you," he replied honestly, reaching out and covering her hand with his. _I love you so much. _"So, are we staying here tonight, or going back to your place?"

"Your bed is even better than mine. Let's stay here."

"We can Floo to your place and grab a few things," Harry agreed. "We'll go in a little while."

"I suppose I can't go to work like this." She motioned at his button-down shirt, draped so enticingly over her curves. It was almost sexier than her naked skin – almost.

"If you do, we won't get any work done. Although," he mused, "it might be fun to have sex in the Department of Mysteries. Maybe on one of those desks the brain room."

"I doubt Charlie would approve," Luna scolded.

"Don't tell me I have to compete with Charlie Weasley, too," Harry groaned. She made a rude gesture at him, making him laugh.

"No, that's the brain's nickname. Charlie."

"Who nicknames a giant brain _Charlie_?"

"Martin. He's got an odd sense of humour."

Harry looked nonplussed. It was difficult to imagine Croaker with any sense of humour at all – the man was like a medieval gargoyle brought to life. "Is he good to you?"

"Who, Charlie? I don't interact with him much." Luna took a bite of lasagna.

"No, Martin. What's he like to work for?"

"It's not the sort of job I ever thought I'd have," she meditated, "but I like it. Martin is quite laid-back, he's just very protective of Daphne and Penny and me. He doesn't like our 'precious energy to be wasted on mundane concerns', as he put it."

"Since we're going to be working together, can you tell me a little bit more about what you do? I mean, there are an awful lot of desks in the Department of Mysteries for only four staff members."

"Oh, no, there's more staff than that," she corrected. "We just have a lot of clerical and administrative staff. The only actual Unspeakables are the four of us."

"So, you're Clotho – what's your job?"

"Unravelling the mysteries of the universe," she declared in sepulchral tones. They laughed.

"That really doesn't tell me much," Harry probed. "What kind of mysteries?"

"Do you remember when I took you to the Ravenclaw common room to show you what the diadem looked like? Remember what the eagle asked me?"

He searched his memory, calling to mind the bronze, eagle's head-shaped knocker. "Which came first, the phoenix, or the flame?"

"Right." She nodded. "And I answered that a circle has neither beginning nor end. In a very real sense, I study the circle. "

Harry shook his head to clear it. "Okay, I don't get it."

"Existence, Harry," she amplified. "The nature of existence itself."

"Wow." He took another mouthful of dinner, chewing slowly while he mulled that over. "You know, even on my best day, I think that's too complex a question for me."

"It's not a question, it's a state of mind," she replied. "It takes an extreme amount of effort to perceive it all at once, but I've managed to catch a glimpse of it, once or twice. It's breathtaking."

_Kind of like you,_ he thought, dazzled by the towering intellect of the diminutive witch. "Do you miss travelling and writing?"

"I miss being out in nature, and I miss the animals desperately," she admitted. "I think I might drop by Hogwarts next weekend, visit Hagrid and get a Thestral fix. He's the only other person I know who feels the same way about animals that I do. On the other hand, I may be mad, but I'm not quite mad enough to try to hatch a dragon egg in my fireplace."

"You know about that?"

"Stuff of legends," she joked. "Ginny and I used to be friends, remember? It was only in seventh year that things got…ugly…between us. I used to hear all the stories about you and Hermione and Ron."

Harry's face fell. Thinking of Ginny brought back a lot of bad memories for both of them, he was sure. "I'm sorry about that, Luna. I really am. I'm sorry about _her_."

"She's hurting." She shrugged. "It's not really about me."

_There she goes again, _he noted._ She's really good at that. _On the heels of that thought:_ that means she's had practice. _

"Still, you never deserved that. After all, you were kidnapped and held hostage because of what your dad wrote in _The_ _Quibbler_. And you fought with us. I know he turned us over to the Snatchers, but in his place, I can't say I wouldn't have done the same."

"No, you wouldn't. You're on the wrong side of the dichotomy for that."

"Pardon?"

"Gryffindors are generally far too moral for so-called 'situational ethics'. Forgive me, but you lot tend to see things in black and white, good and bad, right and wrong, though life is rarely that simple. You, Harry Potter, are solidly on the side of what is good and honourable." She laid her fork against her empty plate. "You would never ransom one life for another, no matter how much you valued the life in question – unless the life you paid with was your own."

"Not all Gryffindors are moral. Look at Peter Pettigrew."

"I did say 'generally.' Life is not fond of absolutes." She smiled. "Pettigrew chose the Dark, but I reckon he saw things in black and white, same as any other Gryffindor. He just chose the Dark because it offered him something he couldn't find on the Light side."

"Babe, can I ask you a question?" Luna nodded and waited for him to continue. "How did your dad die?"

"It was an accident." She looked down at the table. "He…he encountered a Lethifold. I guess he thought he could handle it."

"He could have," Harry frowned. "Wouldn't a Patronus have been enough?"

"I'm worried he might have been too depressed to cast one. We didn't part on the best of terms." Her eyes filled with tears. "He loved me, Harry, and I can't take back the last thing I ever said to him." She sniffled quietly.

"Which was?" he asked gently, coming around to the table to kneel in front of her. He brushed her golden locks gently away from her face. She shook her head violently.

"No. I can't tell you that. Not yet. Maybe someday." Her voice was thick with tears and shame.

"Babe, look at me." He stroked the curve of her jaw tenderly, forcing her gaze to his. "When are you going to take some of your own advice?"

"What do you mean?" she snuffled.

"'Everyon_e _acts from a place that makes sense to them,'" he quoted. "You did the best you could with what you had to deal with. I really believe that." He picked her up bodily and sat down in her chair, snuggling her against his chest, and rocked her back and forth. She wasn't sobbing, but he could feel her deep sorrow.

"I told you I forget sometimes," she whispered.

Harry kissed her cheek sweetly. "I'll always try to help you remember."

She slid off his lap and wiped her eyes again. "Thank you."

"You don't have to thank me," Harry said. "I tricked a pretty girl into sitting on my lap."

XoXoXoXoXoX

After dinner, they Flooed quickly back to the Rook to grab Luna's pyjamas and something for her to wear the next day. Harry sat on her bed while she picked through her armoire. He noticed a book on the bedside table and opened it to the table of contents.

"Babe, what the hell is string theory?"

"It's what scientists call a 'Theory of Everything.' Basically, all matter and energy is the same thing, and made up of infinitesimal vibrating strings. It seems to resolve the contradictions that point-particle theory creates between general relativity and quantum mechanics." She pulled a set of summer robes out of the armoire and threw it in her overnight bag.

Harry goggled at her blankly. "Huh?"

"Theoretical physics," she said breezily, as though that explained everything. "Let's just say Muggle scientists have some powerful insights that I can use in my job as an Unspeakable. Actually, throw that book in here," she requested, indicating the overnight bag.

"You read this stuff before going to bed at night?"

"Oh, yes. I have the most wonderful dreams." She stepped into the ensuite, raising her voice slightly so Harry could still hear her from his position on the bed. "It gives me perspective."

He looked down at the book in his hands. "Perspective? I think something like this would scare the shit out of me. Well, that's if I could even understand it, which I doubt very much."

She came out of the ensuite with a small toiletry bag in her hands, which she tossed into the overnight bag on the bed. "The universe is a large place, and it may be only one of many. Humankind is very small – not even relevant in the grand scheme." She smiled. "However small I am, though, I exist, and that is a beautiful mystery in itself."

Harry had the feeling that he was in the presence of someone vastly more intelligent than himself. Clearly, she regularly pondered facets of life that he had never even bothered to think about deeply. No, more than that; she _owned_ those mysteries, and lived within them, and was satisfied with a mystery as its own reward.

"Luna?"

"Yes?"

"I think you might be smarter than Hermione."

"Coming from you, Harry, that is extremely high praise," she responded. She kissed him once, softly, on the lips. "Thank you."

"Then again, how smart can she be, really? She married _Ron_." Harry mock-shuddered. Luna laughed.

"Hermione needs someone to boss around. Ron needs someone to boss him around. As George put it, they each have 'needs', and it works. Which isn't to say there isn't deep love between them, because there is," she said. "Their relationship is much like that of Arthur and Molly, I think."

Harry shuddered again. "I love Hermione like a sister, but honestly, I think her nagging would drive me mad."

"You mean, you love her like a sister, but her nagging _already_ drives you mad, and you can't imagine having to live with it for the rest of your life?"

He laughed. "Something like that." He stood up, slinging the bag over his shoulder. "Ready to go?"

XoXoXoXoXoX

Harry woke up with a start in the middle of the night. Something was wrong, but he wasn't sure what. He cast about blearily for a moment, grabbing his glasses from the nightstand and placing them on his nose. He reached next to him, and he found that the bed was empty, but warm. That was it; Luna was here with him. Or rather, she _should_ be. Where had she gone?

"Luna?" he called softly. She wasn't in the bathroom; the light was off and the door was open. She wasn't in the kitchen, either. He found her in the living room, staring into the fireplace without seeing it. She had brought pyjamas, but they'd wound up making love again upon their arrival, and had fallen asleep naked. Her porcelain skin almost seemed to glow in the darkness. "Babe? You okay?"

She did not turn or acknowledge his presence in any way. He walked over and peered into her face. Her expression was serene; a tiny smile curled up the corners of her mouth. _She's sleepwalking_, Harry realized. Whatever she was seeing, it didn't seem to be sinister. He seemed to remember that one shouldn't wake sleepwalkers, so he just took her quietly by the hand and led her back to bed. Just as they crossed the threshold of his room, she spoke in a voice that raised the hair on the back of his neck. "I don't want him to go." And then: "It is all things."

He made a mental note to ask her about that in the morning as he helped her into bed. Once she was lying down again, her eyes closed of their own accord, and she seemed to fall back into normal sleep. Harry kissed her on the forehead and whispered so softly in her ear, his words were barely a breath. "I love you."


	6. Revelations

**A/N: Sorry this is so late, people. I have a full-time day job and a two-year-old. I only have time to write and post in the evenings, and if I'm not able to take that time, it gets pushed to the next evening. And the next. And the next. And then the server will go down. Frustra-TION. If all else fails, I shall rise in the wee sma's to get you your Harry/Luna fix – like now. It's not quite 3 am and I'm getting slap-happy, so I'd better stop typing. **

**Chapter Six – Revelations (Or, You've Got to be Kidding Me)**

Harry and Luna accidentally had a bit of a lie-in Monday morning, so there was no time to discuss Luna's midnight stroll to the living room. They showered as fast as possible (with much groping thrown in for good measure), bolted a quick breakfast of toast and tea, and kissed each other deeply before Apparating to the designated points on their floors.

"Good morning, Luna." Daphne called out her greeting as she strolled by Luna's office door, surveying the swollen lips, slightly mussed hair, and mistier-than-usual eyes of her co-worker. "Have a good weekend?"

"Good morning. I had a wonderful weekend," Luna sighed dreamily.

Daphne raised an eyebrow. "Okay, spill. You've got it _bad, _and you're absolutely dying to talk about it. I can tell."

"It was a great weekend, and much sex was had by all." Luna blushed and giggled.

Daphne laughed. She was tall and generously built and had a rich, deep voice for a woman – and a filthy sense of humour, in spite of the mask of frosty blonde perfection she presented to those who didn't know her well. Luna rather thought Daphne would have made a good match for George Weasley, but she'd been Theodore Nott's rock ever since he defied his father and refused to join the Dark Lord's ranks. "Yeah, with whom, though? I've never seen you so all in a flutter."

Luna looked back and forth exaggeratedly, checking for prying ears. "Harry Potter."

"That's what I _thought_ you'd say," Daphne sang triumphantly. "You arrived together to the meeting on Friday night, and late, too. Well done, Lovegood. Choice piece of arse, that." She took a seat on the edge of Luna's desk.

"You should see him naked," Luna agreed.

"Oooh, see whom naked? I want in on _this _conversation," Penny said, appearing in the doorway.

"Harry Potter," Daphne and Luna said at the same time.

"Really!" Penny looked surprised. "I wondered. Also, you have a hickey on your neck." Luna blushed and pointed her wand at her throat, muttering a Glamour Charm to cover the tiny bruise.

"So, anyway, how did this happen?" Daphne asked, crossing her legs and settling in for a good gossip session. She was the department's resident Atropos, and the adaptable, resourceful kind of Slytherin who represented the best qualities of her house. Her family had stayed resolutely neutral during the war, and Luna knew her to be both sensible and a trustworthy friend.

"We ran into each other here at work about three weeks ago, and then again at The Burrow when I dropped something off there, and then _again_ at Ron and Hermione's wedding. He asked me out to dinner, and it was incredible, but I thought we were just friends, but then on Friday he came to my house, and..." Luna trailed off and fixed her colleagues with a dazzling smile.

Daphne snickered and shook her head. "You're babbling. It must be love."

"I'm glad you're happy, sweetheart," Penny said. She was tall and willowy and of a gentle mien and calm, thoughtful disposition, with a photographic memory that made her the perfect choice for Lachesis. She brushed a lock of long, curly brown hair behind her ear. "I think he'll treat you right."

Daphne hopped to the ground. "So, are you going to bring Harry down here to work on this thing?"

"I'm supposed to send a memo when I'm ready for him," Luna confirmed, nodding.

"Sweet, Penny and I will get to observe the lovebirds firsthand." She rubbed her hands together and cackled. "Theo's gonna shit a brick when he hears about this."

"That was pretty much Ron's reaction, actually. Well, inasmuch as one can shit a brick in a work meeting. Did you see his face?"

Daphne threw her head back and shouted with laughter. "Oh, Ron's going to be shitting a few bricks, too, I think." She leaned closer and muttered excitedly, "Did you hear –"

"Daphne," Luna stalled, holding up her hands.

"Yes, taskmaster." Daphne reached behind her and pulled her waterfall of blonde hair into a ponytail, bringing her aristocratic features fully into view. She wrinkled her elegant, lightly freckled nose. "Eurgh. I'm having a nice, cozy chat with Charlie today."

"Oh, fun." Luna made a face. "Don't let him goose you again."

"We'll come for you at lunch, because Martin says you're not to eat at your desk anymore," Daphne called over her shoulder, her ponytail swinging as she followed Penny out of the room. "Take a break, kiddo."

XoXoXoXoXoX

"So, Harry, mate. I do believe you've got news to share with me," Ron called. Harry paused by the door to his friend's office. Ever since the fall of the Dark Lord, the Ministry had invested much more funding in the Auror department, complete with a conversion to actual offices instead of cubicles. Ron had decorated his, predictably, with Chudley Cannons posters and Gryffindor pennants. A large space on his desk was occupied by photograph frames – Molly and Arthur; the clipping from the Prophet with a photograph of the whole family (Peter Pettigrew had been magically removed from the image); his niece, Victoire; a candid of the Golden Trio in their first year at Hogwarts; and of course, a large portrait of Hermione on their wedding day.

"Let a man get his jacket off, Ron," Harry muttered.

"It's June. You're not wearing a jacket. Now, tell me exactly what Luna was keeping you busy with on Friday night," Ron demanded. He got up from his desk and followed Harry across the hall into his office. It was much more minimally decorated – a lone Gryffindor pennant adorned the wall next to the window, and the same photograph Ron had from their first year at Hogwarts rested on the corner of his desk.

"Not just Friday night, mate," Harry bragged, his face breaking out in a big grin. "All Sunday, too. And, erm..." he trailed off and checked for Dawlish before lowering his voice. "She slept over last night."

"Harry, you have to work with her!" Ron exclaimed. He gesticulated wildly, his gold wedding band glinting in the light. "This is a terrible idea! And she's so...barmy," he added helplessly. Harry glared at him.

"She's not barmy, Ron. She's brilliant. You're not the only one who's allowed to love a brilliant but scary witch." Harry flopped down angrily in his chair. _Thanks for your support, mate._

Ron gaped at him. "Wait, _what_ did you just say?"

_Oops._ "Well, you know what I mean," Harry explained lamely. "She's amazing, Ron. I really like her. I mean, we've known each other for ages, but she's so...different, now. Or maybe I'm different. I dunno." He shook his head and laughed. "There's so much more to her than I ever realized."

"The whole world's gone mad," Ron complained. "First Ginny, now you."

"What do you mean, first Ginny?" Harry asked. "What's she done now?"

"Are you sure you really want to hear about this?" Ron asked uncomfortably. He dropped into one of Harry's visitor chairs, looking extremely glum. "I hope you haven't eaten breakfast. You may vomit."

"Oh, Merlin. What now?" Harry groaned.

Ron marshalled his courage. "She's...dating Draco Malfoy," he blurted after a brief hesitation.

"Malfoy?" Harry looked aghast. _"_You're taking the piss, right?_ Malfoy?"_

"There's more," his redheaded friend moaned pathetically. "I hate to tell you this, but – it's been going on for awhile. George popped by her flat unannounced after close on Friday, just to check on her, and he walked in on – erm, I mean, Malfoy was there." Ron grimaced. "They had words, George kicked him out, and then he sat Ginny down and made her tell him exactly what is going on."

"How long is 'awhile?'" Harry demanded, eyes narrowed.

"A few months." His friend grimaced apologetically. "I'm sorry."

"I was right," Harry said, shaking his messy black head sadly. "I mean, I suspected there was someone else, but..._Malfoy_?"

"That's the worst part, innit? I can't explain it any better than you can, mate. She's mad, I know that."

"It explains a few things, I suppose," Harry sighed. "I mean, I'm the wrong person for her, and that's not going to change, but this is a kick in the arse."

"You can imagine how Dad feels about it," Ron agreed. "It's like Percy all over again."

"Oh, gods." Harry dropped his glasses onto the desk and scrubbed his palms over his face, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes. "Just...unbelievable."

Ron gave him a sympathetic look, fiddling with his wedding band. "I guess I'm glad you've got Luna, then," he said slowly. "I mean – whatever makes you happy."

Harry snorted. "Thanks, Ron." He glanced at the clock. "I should really work on these budgets," he sighed. "Lunch again today?"

"Hermione might join us, she's not out in the field today." Ron got up heavily. "I'll see you later, mate."

XoXoXoXoXoX

Williamson was done with the mystery object earlier than he'd thought he would be, and it wound up on Luna's desk by 10:30. "Talked to everyone," he said, sounding satisfied. "They all said it was something different."

"I'll send Harry a memo," she chirped, pulling a scrap of parchment and a Self-Inking Quill out of her desk drawer. "Thanks, Williamson."

"Harry will give you access to my full report, once it's ready," he replied. He gave her an incurious glance before he left the room, which Luna missed, her head already bent over her note.

_Babe, I've got it. Come down when you're ready. – LL _

It gave her a secret thrill to turn his nickname for her around. It was an admission of how she felt – something she had not yet directly told him, she realized; she was still trying to muster the courage to voice that vulnerability. She addressed the memo and flicked her wand at it, sending it to join the airstream of messages that flowed through the Ministry like square paper birds. "I love you," she whispered to the empty room.

Luna had never been in love before, but she was pretty sure that this was _it_. Even though she had slept in his bed all night long, she missed Harry with a deliciously painful ache in her bones, and every second without him stretched out like a lonely road. The exquisite torture made her feel fully alive – almost as alive as she felt in his presence. Gods, he could make her _feel_. His hands on her skin ignited her blood and made her body sing in sympathetic vibration with his; just thinking of him was enough to..._Oi, have_ _a little self-control, Lovegood, _she told herself reprovingly. _You're at work, for Merlin's sake._

She dragged her attention back to the object on the desk. She was perfectly mystified as to why she should see a knife, of all things, when Harry saw something as harmless as a book. It lay before her, glittering in the lamplight. Handle, tang, and blade were all of the same silver-blue material, like ghostly steel; if Luna had been the sort of woman who spent overlong looking in the mirror, she would have realized it was the same colour as her eyes. She reached out to draw it toward her. It looked as though it should have been unimaginably heavy, but the handle fitted quite naturally in her right palm, light and slick. She wondered whether it was as sharp as it looked, so she touched the tip gingerly with a hesitant forefinger. The blade was finely honed; at first, she did not feel the slice that drew a crimson line on her fingertip. Blood welled immediately, running freely down her hand and dripping onto the desk. She gasped.

"Hey, babe! I – oh Merlin, you're bleeding!" Harry rushed into her office, his heart in his throat. He spun Luna's chair around, kneeling in front of her and taking her tiny, bloodied hand in his. He couldn't see how bad the wound was, but she was bleeding copiously from one finger. "How did this happen?"

"What, proposing already, Potter?" Daphne, attracted to the scene by Harry's arrival, stopped dead in the doorway. "Oh. Oh my gods. Martin! _Martin!_" She turned white and fled down the corridor.

"Luna? Babe, what happened to your hand?" Harry tried to keep his voice calm, but it shook slightly.

"The knife," she moaned. "Ouch. I didn't mean to do that."

His eyes darted to the book her hands."Put it down," he blurted, yanking the book from her grasp. It looked perfectly benign – there wasn't even any blood on it that he could see – but holding it thoroughly spooked him. It was a large, thick volume, and looked as though it should have weighed several pounds, but it was light and slippery as a silk scarf in his hands. He dropped it onto the desk with a startled grunt.

"What's going on, Potter?" Croaker and Daphne burst through the doorway, with Penny right behind them.

"When I came in here, she had that – _thing_ – in her hands, and she said she cut herself on it," he reported, rapid-fire. Croaker brushed him aside, crouching next to Luna.

"It's really nothing, Harry," Luna piped up. "See? _Evanesco." _ She grabbed her wand from the desk with her now-empty right hand and Vanished the blood on her left, showing him the slice in her index finger. It looked deep. "_Episkey_," she incanted, and the wound sealed itself from the outer edges in. "There," she said, holding up the finger and wriggling it. "I'm all right. It was just a little cut. I touched the blade on purpose, to see if it was sharp. It was a silly thing to do, really."

The scattered, bright droplets of blood on her desk were making Harry feel ill. He muttered an incantation and they disappeared.

"Bled an awful lot for just a little cut," Croaker grumbled. "Far more than it should have. Do you need to see a Healer?"

Luna shook her head. "No, it's completely healed. It doesn't even hurt anymore. I'm quite skilled in first aid spells, Martin. You know that." The grizzled man frowned deeply at her, considering.

"What happened, kiddo? Rapture of the deep again?" Daphne's slightly hoarse voice broke the uncomfortable silence. Luna nodded.

"Rapture of the deep?" Harry repeated.

"'Rapture of the deep' is our affectionate nickname for accidentally doing something stupid while one is contemplating...well...the unspeakable," Penny explained gently. "Me, I have a tendency to walk into walls. Good to see you again, Harry, by the way."

"Oh. Erm, you too." He bobbed his head them like a startled pigeon with glasses. Daphne made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a suppressed snort of amusement.

"On the bright side, now we know that it actually becomes whatever you see when you hold it," Luna remarked. "It's not just an illusion – the object really does morph."

"Good work, Luna. Now, promise you'll never be so foolish again," Croaker scolded. "We still need to investigate this thing, but you must use caution. It may not be Dark, but that doesn't mean it isn't dangerous."

"We'll be careful, Martin. I promise. I think I might have an idea of what this is," Luna answered. "Well, the seed of an idea, anyway. I'm going to sleep on it and see what grows."

Daphne grinned obscenely, wearing a look that clearly said _Oh, you were planning on sleeping? _Penny nudged her.

"Potter, you saw a book, didn't you?" Croaker growled at him. Harry nodded curtly. "Right then. Luna, you're not to touch that thing. Potter will handle it for you, since the worst he risks is a paper cut. Are you sure you're all right?"

"I'm really fine, Martin. I promise." The two shared another long, intense look, and then Croaker nodded.

"Still, you're pale. Take the rest of the day off. Have something to eat and a lie-down, and maybe a Blood Replenishing potion." His words were gruff, but gentle.

"And if you feel any stranger than usual, go straight to the hospital," Daphne added. Croaker glared at her, and she promptly shut her mouth with an audible _snap_, but Luna laughed.

"Potter, I'll ask you to keep an eye on her for me this afternoon. I'll let Robards know." Croaker rose from his haunches with a groan, turned on his heel and swept out of the room.

"C'mon, Penny, show's over," Daphne said. "We'll see you tomorrow, kid. Have a nice afternoon." She winked audaciously at them and made her exit.

"Glad you're all right," Penny added, giving Luna one last, long glance as she followed Daphne out the door. "See you later, Harry."

The moment the door closed behind Penny, Harry grabbed Luna into a crushing bear hug. "You scared the piss out of me," he scolded her, pulling back and looking into her eyes. "Don't _do_ stuff like that."

"I'm sorry." Luna looked abashed for a moment, but then her eyes lit up. "Want to take me home and punish me?"

XoXoXoXoXoX

Punishment was the last thing on Harry's mind, however. He Apparated with Luna back to the Rook, where he swept her into his arms and bundled her tenderly on the sofa with blankets and hot tea, despite the weather. She was quite well, but she realized that he needed to take care of her, so she let him. It was how he got rid of the leftover nervous energy once a crisis had passed.

"Harry, I'm getting all sweaty," she complained when he dropped a fifth blanket on her. "If I'm going to get all sweaty, I can think of a better way to do it."

"Gods, woman, you're insatiable." Harry smiled in spite of himself and removed all of the blankets but one from her lap. "If you're not careful, it's gonna break off." He sat down on the sofa and gathered her into his arms, kissing the top of her head and smoothing her hair away from his nose. "Are you sure you're really okay?"

"Babe, I'm _fine_." She held up her finger – there wasn't even a mark to show where she had cut it. "See? Why so worried?"

"You were sleepwalking last night," he informed her. "I found you standing in the middle of the living room."

"Oh, yes. I sleepwalk sometimes when I'm stressed, or if I'm in an unfamiliar environment. I was hoping it wouldn't happen. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you." She smiled brightly. "At least I didn't break a toe this time."

"You talked, too."

"Oh, dear." Her cheeks pinked with embarrassment. "What did I say?"

"You said, 'I don't want him to go.'" Her blush deepened, making Harry grin inwardly. _Ah, so that _was _about me. Excellent._ "Also, you said, 'it is all things.' Do you remember what you were dreaming about?"

"No, I don't." Luna shook her head, bemused. "'It is all things?'"

"Apparently."

"I wonder if that was about work," she said, almost to herself. "Hmmm."

"Speaking of work, you sure seem to get along with your colleagues," Harry commented. He kissed the top of her head again. "They like you there, huh?"

"I like them too," Luna replied. "We understand each other. It's a good fit."

"How long have you worked there now?"

"Three months. Before that, I was dealing with my father's estate. You wouldn't believe how long it took to get everything cleared through the Ministry and Gringott's."

Harry frowned, doing some quick mental math. "When did he die?"

"Almost a year ago," Luna said softly. "It'll be a year in July."

"I can't believe you've been back for almost a year, and we only ran into each other a few weeks ago," Harry replied. "I wish I'd known what was going on – maybe I could have helped?"

Luna shook her head. "There was a lot of legal trouble around _The Quibbler_, that's what took so long."

"Legal trouble?"

"My father had enemies, Harry," she elucidated. "A lot of them. There were several – parties – who had reported Daddy to the Ministry for libel. When he passed away, they gave me the option to settle with funds from the estate. It was either that, or take on his legal battles, which I just wasn't prepared to do." Luna took a sip of tea. "I paid the bastards off, but I had to sell the rights to _The Quibbler_ to do it."

"Oh, Luna." Harry stared at her, aghast. "Your father's magazine."

"I know," she said simply. "It's awful."

"Who'd you sell it to?"

"The owner of the Daily Prophet. He, of course, promptly turned around and sold it to Rita Skeeter for a tidy profit." Luna scowled into her teacup.

"This day just keeps getting better and better," Harry grumbled. "First, I find out from Ron that Ginny's been banging Draco Malfoy since well before we broke up the last time." He ignored Luna's gasp of surprise. "Then, I come down to your office and find the woman I...my..._you _covered in blood. Then I find out you had to sell your dad's magazine because of libel suits, and it winds up in the hands of the biggest libeller in Wizarding Britain. Fan-fucking-_tastic_." He buried his face in her hair, inhaling her lavender-and-clover scent deeply.

"Oh, Harry." Luna leaned forward and put her teacup on the coffee table before returning to his arms and wrapping her own arms about him, holding him tightly to her. "I'm sorry. That must hurt," she commiserated, thinking of Ginny.

"I wish it didn't," he muttered, catching her meaning. "I don't know why I care."

"She betrayed you_. _It doesn't matter that your relationship is over. It still hurts."

Harry sighed and squeezed her tighter. _I love you._ "Only you could be that understanding without getting all jealous."

Luna shrugged, no small feat while her arms were still wrapped around him. "Mine now," she said simply. Harry melted, pulling out of their embrace to kiss her deeply. "And, since you're mine, I get to do whatever I want with you."

"Oh? And what do you want to do with me?"

She sprang out of his arms and off the sofa, holding out a hand to him in invitation. "Come with me."

XoXoXoXoXoX

"Are you sure nobody ever comes here?" Harry looked around at the dense foliage surrounding the pond.

"I've never seen anyone else here," Luna replied. She began stripping out of her robes, hanging them neatly on the stub of a broken branch that jutted from a nearby tree.

"I'm casting wards anyway," he declared, raising his wand.

"But it's the danger of being caught that makes it fun," she said, coming over to him and lowering his wand-arm with a hand over his. "Where's all that fabled Gryffindor bravery?" She was now clad only in her underwear, a satin-trimmed pink cotton bra and knickers that he had watched her put on that morning. It made her look like an iced cupcake, and he definitely wanted a taste.

"Well, I suppose I can't let myself be outdone by a Ravenclaw, now can I?" Harry peeled his shirt off over his head and let his trousers drop to the ground, dropping his wand on top of them.

"I've just upped the ante, Potter," Luna challenged. He looked up from toeing off his shoes and socks to see that she had wriggled out of her bra, and was in the process of removing her knickers.

"Naughty girl." He slid his boxer-briefs to the ground. They were both completely naked in the late spring sunshine, and he could feel his cares blowing away with the slight breeze that kissed his skin. "Oh. Wow. I can't remember if I've ever been naked outside before."

"Isn't it wicked?" She grinned, and without warning, took a running leap and catapulted herself into the pond with a squeal of delight. Her splashdown sent droplets raining over him.

_You know what, Ron? I don't care if she is barmy. If this is barmy, I never want to be sane again. _He threw his glasses on top of his clothes, and with a whoop of delight to match Luna's, Harry flung himself into the water. He paddled over to her as her sleek gold head broke the water. "This _is_ wicked," he agreed.

Luna stretched out on her back, letting herself float on the surface of the pond. "Look up," she said. "Just look." Harry assumed the same position eagerly. Without his glasses, the trees and sky became a mottled blue-and-green canopy above him. Twice, the blurred shape of a bird streaked across his field of vision with a call and a rustle of wings. Every once in awhile, a sunbeam would strike directly in his eyes, filling his senses with a flash of white light. He reached across the warm water of the pond and found Luna's fingertips, brushing them gently as they bobbed in the water.

_How did she know?_ Harry wondered. _This is exactly what I needed._ Somehow, he had a feeling that Luna would always know what he needed. _Be_ what he needed. He was already having a hard time remembering what life had been like without her. _Well, I wasn't really without her for most of it. We've been friends for a long time. _ He felt a stab of regret over the way he'd treated her in the past, and the missing four years that they couldn't get back. It felt like wasted time now, time he should have been spending with her all along_. It's_ _not mad that I'm in love with her. I've known her since I was fifteen._

Later, he took great pleasure in watching her dry her ivory-gold skin with her wand, her nipples hard in the cool breeze and her skin stippled with gooseflesh. She fit perfectly with the landscape – a woodland fairy or a water nymph, come to charm him and lure him away to her twilit domain. "Luna?"

She paused in the middle of charming her blonde waves dry, fixing him with a dreamy smile. "Hmmmm?"

"Do you remember at Hogwarts, when Peeves was swooping around yelling 'Potty loves Loony! Potty loves Loony?'"

"Oh, yes. I don't imagine I'll ever forget the look on your face," she remembered. "Peeves was lucky he was already dead."

"You know what, though? He was right." He waited a moment for his words to sink in. "I'm in love with you, Luna. I was just too stupid to realize it back then." He laughed shortly. "Like I keep saying, experiencing death has a way of making you see things differently. Maybe that's why Peeves could see what I couldn't." Harry picked up his wand and Transfigured his shirt into a soft towel, which he wrapped around her. "All I know is, I love you. I'm sorry if it's too early to tell you, but I just couldn't keep it a secret anymore." Silver eyes met green ones, and he felt his knees go weak. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her, softly at first, but with increasing intensity as arousal flooded his being.

"I love you too, Harry," she whispered against his mouth. The towel dropped from around her shoulders and she pressed herself to him, intensifying his lust for her with the touch of her cool, silken skin.

"Oh, gods." He groaned, sliding his hands down to cup her arse. "I love you so much. It feels so good to say that."

"I think maybe we should get back to the house," she whispered, writhing against him a little to make her point.

"No." Harry stepped back and spread the towel out on the ground, casting a Cushioning Charm on it before he lay down on his back. "Let's stay right here."

A slow, sensual smile crawled over Luna's delicate, rounded features, making Harry smile in return. He relished her every movement as she approached, surveying the curves and valleys of her body with delight. Her hair was wild and free around her shoulders, and it framed her face and cut off his peripheral vision as she descended on him. "I love you," she whispered in his ear as she took him.

**A/N 2.0: "Rapture of the Deep" is a real medical condition. Google it. Next update as soon as humanly possible.**


	7. Stay

**A/N: I'm absolutely tickled by the response this story is getting. You have all been universally sweet to me. I'm glad you're having as much fun as I am. To answer a common thread in some of the reviews: yes, I will keep this light, and yes, you will get to find out more about Ginny. There's a little of that coming up right now, in fact. Please note that all views expressed by the characters in the following chapter are just that – the views of the character. Nothing heavy, I just want to say that up front. **

**Chapter 7 – Stay (Or, Watch Where You're Throwing That Thing)**

Harry and Luna spent the evening following their swim at the Rook, eating whatever they could dredge up in the kitchen and playing Exploding Snap. Luna was an excellent Snap player, and managed to beat Harry at every hand they played.

"It's a good thing we're not playing for money," he groaned, shaking his head as she shuffled the deck. "You'd have cleaned me out."

"I am a woman of many talents," she agreed, handing over the cards. "Your turn to deal."

After Exploding Snap, the sun was setting and the stars were coming out across the walls and ceiling of the living room, so they snuggled up on the sofa to watch a DVD. Halfway through the film, Harry looked down at the woman in his arms to find that she had fallen asleep. Her cheek rested against his chest, her ear pressed over his heart, and an expression of blissful peace graced her sweet face. He gave her a gentle squeeze and kissed the top of her head, whispering to her in the gathering darkness. "I'm so lucky. I love you."

When the DVD ended, he picked up the still-sleeping witch and Apparated with her to her bedroom. He laid her down carefully in her bed and cast a quick Switching Spell to replace her clothes with a clean pair of pyjamas – aquamarine and emblazoned with a cupcake pattern this time, he noted with a smile.

There were many things Harry loved about Luna - her predilection for childish pyjamas was only one. She reminded him of a Muggle toy his cousin Dudley had had when they were children, a multicoloured puzzle called a Rubik's Cube. Luna had many facets, all different, and quite jumbled up to the casual observer. He never knew which side she was going to hit him with when she opened her mouth: the artist, the scientist, the comedian, the dreamer, or the lost and lonely child. These were all a part of her, and more – and none were boring. She was an impossibly old soul.

_I don't want to go home, _he thought regretfully._ I don't ever want to leave her side. It will hurt. _The thought startled him, but it was true. He kissed her forehead tenderly and tucked her covers closely around her before he left.

Harry tried to go home – he really did. He Apparated from the kitchen so the noise of his departure would not wake Luna, arriving directly in his own bedroom with a _crack_. He brushed his teeth and crawled into bed, leaving his glasses on the bedside table and staring up at the ceiling with blurred vision. He replayed the events of the day over in his mind, as he often did before sleeping.

Waking up next to Luna had been one of the highlights. She was adorable in the morning, with rumpled hair and sleepy silver eyes, and skittish as hell lest he should catch a whiff of her morning breath. By tacit agreement, they had both brushed their teeth before showering together, and Harry appreciated that they didn't have to discuss everything to death – some things were just understood. They shared each other's space so easily, fitted together so perfectly, that her sudden absence unbalanced him. He rolled over restlessly and punched his pillow into a more comfortable shape. _ Okay. Enough. Lying here missing her won't help. Time to sleep._

Try as he might, though, sleep would not come. The day continued to haunt him. He thought of Ron, and the awkward, painful conversation they'd had. _Things have really changed since school,_ he realized. It was hard for him to accept that their Golden Trio had been reduced to a Golden Duo and a Golden but single friend of theirs; however, he supposed it was the natural order of things. They weren't children anymore. Harry was disappointed that Ron didn't understand or appreciate his attraction to Luna, but it wasn't very surprising. Though he was a brave and loyal friend, Ron was also stubborn and slow to embrace new ways of looking at things – in short, the opposite approach from Luna's tack on life. She spent her days trying to find new ways to look at things. _Merlin, I love her. She's so...oh, gods damn it. Stop it, me._

Harry flopped over onto his back. _Okay. Sleep._ He lay very still and tried to think about nothing – an effort which lasted all of fifteen seconds. _All right, I give up_. He rolled out of bed and threw his clothes back on, stuffing a few changes of clothes and his toiletries into his overnight bag. He Apparated back to Luna's kitchen with another _crack_, and hurried up to her bedroom. Dropping his bag on the floor, he shed his clothes hastily and crawled in next to her. She was still soundly asleep, but he couldn't resist running the backs of his fingers down one silken arm to wake her. "Babe? Luna?"

"Hmmmm?" She rolled over and blinked sleepily at him. "Harry? Wussamatter?"

"I'm going to stay, okay? I couldn't sleep without you."

She smiled briefly. "Okay."

"Babe?"

"Hmmm?"

"I might never go home."

"Okay."

XoXoXoXoXoX

True to his word, Harry didn't go home the next night – or the next, or the one after that. Over the following weeks, they fell into a predictable pattern. Mornings involved tooth-brushing, showering together, and a quick breakfast before arriving at work. They would go their separate ways for the morning hours, meeting again for lunch with their co-workers, and worked together on the mystery object all through each afternoon. Harry's favourite part of the day soon became the evening hours they spent together at home. On the long, hard days, when he came home tired and grumpy, Luna was always able to provoke a smile and help him leave work behind for the night. Progress with the object was slow – it mostly involved the two of them leafing through books, both Muggle and magical, trying to find a hint that would lead them to the answer. Harry was going a little bit squirrelly, and sometimes she had to drag him out to the pond for a swim to get his head screwed back on properly; somehow, she always ensured that when bedtime rolled around, he was calm and ready for sleep.

Just before his birthday, Harry gave up his flat. They moved his heavenly bed into Luna's bedroom, a compromise that suited them both perfectly, and added his former living room furniture to the area around the fireplace for a more comfortable private sitting room. The rest of his stuff went into the attic, a storage area full of wonders that Luna had promised to show him some rainy afternoon.

Harry's twenty-second birthday fell on a Wednesday, so they had to delay their celebration until the evening. Luna had spent an increasing amount of time and effort learning to bake and cook, and she surprised Harry by baking him a birthday cake, which she presented with much fanfare after a dinner of take-away from their favourite restaurant. Unsurprisingly, the cake was delicious – Luna was good at most things she tried.

"It's too bad I missed your birthday," he said regretfully around a mouthful of chocolate heaven. "When is it, again?"

"The eighth of May. You didn't really miss it, though. You gave me these." She indicated the delicate golden earrings that never left her earlobes. "Did you know that gold is created when a star dies? Just think: somewhere, a very long time ago, a sun went supernova, and I got earrings out of it. I think that's pretty wicked."

Harry threw back his head and laughed. "Gods, I love you."

"I know it." She reached under the kitchen table and produced a long, narrow envelope. "Happy birthday."

"You didn't have to do that, babe." He opened the envelope and grinned – it held two season tickets for the next year's worth of Chudley Cannons games. "Wicked. Thank you."

"You're welcome. You can take Ron with you," Luna explained. "Now that you're not playing, I've not much interest in Quidditch."

"You went to the games to watch _me_?" Harry couldn't hide his surprise.

"I did a lot of things just because you would be there," she confessed. "I was hoping you would notice me, but you never did – at least, not in the way I wanted you to." She cocked her head to the side. "It's funny – you finally noticed me when I wasn't trying at all."

"Yeah, like when you showed up at the Burrow because I said Ron was sick...hey, wait a tick." He frowned at her. "You know, I remember telling you I was getting a cold, but I don't ever remember telling you that Ron was ill."

Luna flushed under his suspicious stare, dropping her gaze to the table. "I – might have used Legilimency on you," she admitted.

Harry whistled. "Damn. I didn't even realize it, and I'm an Auror. You _are_ good." He came around to her seat and tilted her chin up with a gentle finger, kissing her lips sweetly. "Bad girl," he whispered.

She smiled sheepishly. "I'm sorry."

"I forgive you. But you must tell me exactly how you acquired all this magical skill. Legilimency, Occlumency, wandless and wordless spells – it's mind-boggling."

"It's simply a matter of understanding how it all works, Harry," Luna replied. "But I don't think you want to talk about that right now."

"Oh?" Harry leaned down to kiss her again, savouring the taste of vanilla frosting on her lips. "Why is that?"

She peeled off the cotton tee shirt she was wearing, revealing a blue satin push-up bra with an overlay of bronze lace. "Because it's time to unwrap your other present," she purred.

XoXoXoXoXoX

"I still think you're mad, mate," Ron told him one day while they were in the lunch line. "I mean, living with her already? So soon?"

"It's love, Ron," Harry replied patiently. And it was love – really and truly. The depth of it frightened him a little. Being a Gryffindor, it wasn't a question of whether he'd die for Luna – of course he would. His love was measured by his desire to _live_ with her.

He cast a glance over to where Luna, Hermione, and the other Unspeakables were already seated, waiting for "the boys" to join them. This had become another favourite part of Harry's day. He found that Penny and Daphne made an entertaining addition to his circle of friends – Daphne was subtly outrageous, Penny always played the straight man, and together, they were hilarious. Even Hermione had embraced them. She seemed to be happy to have Luna back in her life, too; Ron's love had softened her judgmental edge, and the changes in Luna's personality made it easier for Hermione to connect with her intellectually. Ron was slower to warm up, though. After several weeks of observing what Daphne termed "gag-worthy" behaviour, he remained persistently incredulous. Harry figured Ron just needed some time to process things, so he didn't take the redhead's skepticism personally.

The first day Harry thought about how _long_ he wanted to live with Luna was on the worst morning of his life, post-Voldemort. The mid-August morning in question started agreeably enough, with their usual grope-and-slide in the shower, a productive meeting that saw him finally get rid of those bothersome budgets, and a rather lascivious, unsigned memo from the Department of Mysteries. Harry grinned as he read it, relieved to note that it incinerated itself the second he dropped it onto the desk. Things continued on quite well until just before lunch, when Ginny strode into his office unannounced and shut the door. Harry looked up from the Wanted Wizard report he was reading in surprise. "Ginny."

She sat down carefully on the edge of a visitor's chair. Her face was arranged into a smooth mask of ersatz calm that hid nothing. She looked as though she hadn't slept well – her hazel eyes were dark-ringed and glassy, their expression slightly distant. "Harry."

He laid the report down on his desk and pushed his glasses up his nose nervously. It was hard for him to believe that he had ever loved her – or rather, that he could be this cold and distant with someone he had once loved. He cleared his throat. "Erm – h-how've you been?"

"I'm pregnant."

The words turned Harry's stomach to ice. He gaped at her for a moment, a single question crystallizing in his mind. When he recovered his wits, he blurted, "I-is it –mine?"

She shook her head slowly, her eyes filling with tears. "No. It just happened. I just found out. I'm due next April." She bit her lip. "I'm sorry," she muttered. "I don't even know why I'm here."

Harry knew why – she had no one else left to turn to. "Malfoy," he growled. His guts were churning, but he had to hold it together. "Does he know?"

Ginny nodded, her lips pressed together in a thin white line. "H-he wants me to – get rid of it. But I won't, Harry. I can't. I mean, I just – I can't," she explained helplessly, bursting into tears. "I didn't mean for this to happen. I'm so scared, Harry!"

Harry came around the desk and sat in the chair next to Ginny, wrapping the weeping witch in a tight hug. "I understand," he said simply.

"It's worse than that," she sobbed. "I _love_ him, Harry." She buried her pale face in her hands, hiding behind the flame-coloured curtain of her hair. "Gods, I am so _stupid_."

"Have you told anybody else yet?" He rubbed her back uselessly.

"No," she wept through her hands.

Harry took a deep breath through his nose and closed his eyes. _What would Luna do? _ He cast about in his mind for a bit of his girlfriend's insight. It dawned on him in a moment. "You know something, Gin? Your mum knows what it's like to be young and pregnant by, erm, surprise. I doubt your dad asked her to end the pregnancy, but all the same, she's been where you are. Even if you wind up having to raise this baby as a single mum, you won't be alone. Your parents will help you, and Bill and Fleur, and George, and Ron and Hermione too. They love you, Ginny, even if they are upset with you right now. You don't need Malfoy."

"You think so?" She conjured a tissue and pressed it to her nose.

"I know it," he replied firmly. "I think you should go to your mum right now and tell her what's happened."

"What about you, Harry?" Ginny sniffled. "Will you be there for me, too?"

He looked her squarely in the eye. "I'm with Luna now, Ginny. I can be your friend, but she's my first priority."

"Luna." Her voice was icy. "Luna _Lovegood_. Ron told me. I still can't believe it, Harry."

"Yeah, Luna told me that the two of you had a falling out," he said, schooling his expression carefully. "Mind telling me what that's all about?"

"Her father got Hermione tortured and all three of you almost killed!" Ginny seethed. "He was a traitor! He sold you out, and Luna stayed loyal to him! She _defended_ him to me, Harry! To _me_!" She snorted. "I lost a brother and friends in that horrible war. It's not like _she_ lost anybody."

"Xeno Lovegood made his own choices, Gin," he replied tiredly. "He was her father, and the only family she had. Luna loved him very much, in spite of his failings. You can't blame her for –"

"And to top it all off, she's barking mad," Ginny scoffed, interrupting him.

Harry scowled. He was so _sick_ of people saying that Luna was nuts. He realized Ginny didn't need a bollocking from him right then, but he couldn't hold back the angry words that spilled from his lips. "I don't get it. We live in a world full of magic – a world where things that shouldn't happen, _do_ happen, all the time. Hell, I can use a magical hourglass to take me back in time, or put on a cloak that makes me completely invisible, or ride into battle on an invisible zombie Pegasus." He was trying not to raise his voice, but the volume kept climbing in spite of him. "We live in a crazy world, Gin, so please enlighten me – exactly _what_ is it that makes you think _Luna _is barking mad?"

Ginny was staring at Harry as though she'd never seen him before. "I –I don't –"

"He's dead now, you know," Harry continued, ignoring her look of shock. "So even if she _is_ crazy, and even if her father _was_ a traitor, I suggest you get over it. _I_ obviously have."

"Harry –"

"I don't want to hear it, Gin." He sat back down behind his desk, shaking his head. "I'm sorry you're going through a hard time, but I won't sit here and listen to you badmouth Luna. _You_ chewed me up and spat me out, and _she_ helped me put myself back together. You have _no right_ to criticize her. No right at all."

Ginny had the grace to look ashamed, at least. She stood up. "I should go."

"Look." Harry ran his hands through his hair in frustration, quieting his voice through dogged effort. "I'm trying to be good to you right now, but maybe we're still not ready to be friends. You wanted my advice, I gave it to you. I don't know what else to say."

"Goodbye seems fitting." She was out the door in two strides, shutting it behind her with a soft _click._

Luna found him twenty minutes later, slumped in his chair with his glasses tossed carelessly on the desk, elbows on his knees and his face in his hands. "Harry?" Tiny, cool hands slid over his hair. "Babe? What's going on? I came to get you when you didn't come down for lunch..."

He wrapped his arms around her waist and buried his face in her robes. "Ginny came to see me," he muttered, his voice muffled by fabric.

"What happened?" She stroked his hair, over and over.

"She's pregnant." He felt her stiffen, so he added, "It's not mine." She relaxed again instantly.

"Draco," Luna breathed. "Oh, dear."

Harry laughed shortly. "Anybody ever tell you? You've a gift for understatement." He nuzzled her through her robes. "I love you so much. I'm so lucky. Any other woman would be jealous to find me...like this."

"I understand. I cried when I found out my ex-boyfriend in Canada was getting married," she told him. "He's a prick, and I'm glad _I'm_ not marrying him, but...you have dreams, you know, when you're young. It hurts when they don't work out." Her hands continued their soothing rhythm over his hair. "I know you had a life before me, Harry. I had a life before you, too. It made us who we are, and now you're mine."

"I'm yours," he agreed. Silently, he added: _forever. _He didn't even have to think about it to know it was true. Luna's mention of her ex getting married had sparked a thought in his head, and the flame would not go out.

They had missed lunch completely, so they headed down to Luna's office, where they found two sandwiches and bottles of Butterbeer waiting for them on the desk. "That'll be Penny," Luna remarked.

"I'll have to remember to thank her," Harry said. His stomach rumbled loudly in the quiet room, making them both laugh.

Luna sat down behind the desk. "Since this is a working lunch, I want to discuss something with you."

"Oh?" Harry took a seat and a sandwich, munching while they contemplated the artefact on the desk.

"Well, tell you something, anyway." Silver eyes met green ones. "I'm tired of playing it safe with this thing." Before he realized what she was going to do, she had already picked it up.

"Luna, put that down!"

"Relax, Harry. I've got it by the handle." She took a deep breath and aimed at the wall, squinting one eye shut.

"Luna!" The book, or so it appeared to Harry, left her hand and flew at the wall, impacting with a loud _thunk_. The heavy volume remained sticking out of the wall on end, as though frozen there with a charm.

"Yup," she chirped. "Still a knife, even after it leaves my hands."

"Holy shit," he said. "Nice arm." He laid his sandwich back on its plate and walked over to the wall, prying the book from it with both hands. It came away quite easily, and he stumbled. Luna giggled, and he shot her a mock-dirty look.

"Smooth, Potter. Oooh!" She shrieked and darted out of the way as he chucked the book at the wall. It bounced off with a hollow _bang_ and skidded across the floor.

"Gods above, what in hell are you two _doing_ in here?" Daphne stood in the doorway, arms crossed, one elegant blonde eyebrow quirked imperiously.

"Experimenting," Luna giggled. _Letting off steam,_ Harry thought.

"Martin will kill you if he catches you," Daphne remarked, swinging her champagne-coloured hair over her shoulder.

"No blood this time," Harry promised. He retrieved the book from the landing zone and put it on the desk. "Luna, sit down for a second, and hold this thing." She did as he asked, and he reached into her drawer for a piece of parchment. "Okay, let's see if this works." He let the paper float down over the edge of the book/knife. Sure enough, as it was in Luna's hands, the object behaved like a knife and cut the parchment cleanly in two. The severed halves fluttered dizzily to the floor.

"Damn." Harry whistled. "That's one hell of a sharp knife, babe. You're lucky you didn't cut the tip of your finger off."

"What would happen if two people tried to touch it at once?" Daphne wondered from the doorway.

"I grabbed it out of Luna's hands the day she cut herself," Harry replied. "It acted like a book as soon as I touched it."

"But I didn't resist you," Luna countered. "I wonder what would happen if two people fought over it?"

"Best let me assist you with this one. My object isn't dangerous either." Daphne came fully into the room. "Brace yourself, Potter."

Harry took the proffered book from Luna and wrapped his arms possessively around it. "Okay, Greengrass. Bring it."

Luna howled with laughter as Daphne launched herself at Harry, tackling the object and attempting to wrestle it from his grasp. She was quite strong, and Harry had to cling to the book like a limpet to prevent her from wrenching it out of his arms. "Oof. Gods, Greengrass, take it easy."

"Look!" As she fought him for the object, its appearance began to shift and blur, stretching into an indeterminate silver blob between them. She elbowed him hard in the side, knocking the air out of his lungs, which made him lose his grip on the object. Daphne stumbled back into the wall with a grunt, holding it under one arm. "Aaaaand Slytherin wins the cup!" she crowed, once she had her wind back.

"Wicked," Harry gasped, still panting for breath. "Babe, did you see that?"

Luna was sitting quite still in her chair with a dumbstruck look. "It is all things," she breathed. "Oh, my gods. It's so simple. I can't believe it took me this long to work it out!"

"Work what out?" Harry asked. He and Daphne dropped into the visitors' chairs.

"I don't know exactly how this works, or why it came here, but I think this is a piece of – everything. It's a little shred of the fabric of the cosmos," Luna explained. "It has the potential to be – well, anything. All things."

"Okay, that's it. Mind officially blown," Daphne declared.

"That's...incredible, babe." Harry goggled at it, then at her. The glory of her discovery brought her exceptional beauty; her cheeks were flushed with excitement, her silver-blue eyes sparkling. "But then – I wonder why –"

"Why the hell _I_ see a knife?" Luna finished for him. Harry and Daphne laughed.

"It's not exactly what I would expect, kiddo," Daphne agreed.

Luna smiled. "I haven't the faintest idea. I suppose that means we've more work to do."

XoXoXoXoXoX

Ginny surprised them both later in the evening with a Floo-call. Luna looked nervous at seeing her former friend-turned-enemy's head in the green flames, but Ginny asked her to stay when she made to leave the room.

"I just called to say thanks, Harry. I talked to Mum and Dad," Ginny said quietly. "Mum cried, and Dad was really angry, but you were right." She sniffled a little. "Things are better now. And I, erm –" she looked abashed – "I talked to Draco, too."

"And?" Harry leaned forward.

"Well, we're talking, at least. He's really scared to tell his parents – seems they had some funny ideas about him marrying Astoria Greengrass – but..." she trailed off. "He loves me. And he kind of likes the idea of a baby, now he's over the shock. We're going to talk about it some more." She paused. "He's changed a lot, Harry. You would – you might like him."

"Stranger things have happened," Luna chimed. She and Harry exchanged a glance and a brief smile.

"Luna – I want to apologize to you. Harry said some things to me today, and – well, let's just say they made sense," Ginny continued. "I'm – I've been really angry for a long time. But you don't deserve the way I've treated you. So, I'm sorry, for what it's worth."

"Apology accepted, Ginny," Luna murmured.

They chatted for a few more minutes, but Ginny's head soon disappeared from the fire, leaving Luna and Harry alone in the living room. They sat side-by-side on the sofa, holding hands in companionable, contemplative silence until Harry spoke. "Well. That was unexpected."

"I'm glad things worked out," Luna replied softly. She leaned her head against his shoulder and sighed.

"You okay?" He dropped her hand in favour of drawing her into his arms.

"Oh, yes. I'm just tired. It's been an interesting day."

Harry laughed in agreement and kissed her soundly. "To bed?"

"I think so."

**A/N: I hope that was okay. I'm making a real effort to keep this light, but this story does brush up against some sensitive subject matter - hence the M rating and whatnot. Stay tuned for more adorable fluff, more lemony goodness, and more about that little piece of everything...oh, and a return trip to a certain jeweller. Reviews are endlessly appreciated. **


	8. Treasures Found

**This chappy has everything you've been craving – more Ginny, more Daphne, more lemons, and more fluff. Enjoy. **

**We fanfic writers are paid in reviews/subscriptions/favourites, and you have made me rich beyond measure. Thank you all for your support. I am greatly honoured that you take the time to read my humble offering, and those of you who leave me your kind thoughts or add me to a favourites list or alert have endeared yourselves to me utterly. C'mon, lurkers, leave me some good lovin', won't you? **

**Chapter 8 – Treasures Found (Or, Bats in the Belfry and Lemons in the Attic)**

"Oh, cool," Luna said, pulling a vase-like object from an old wardrobe. "I found Daddy's old bong."

"His _what_?" Harry looked up from the box he was rooting through. They were holed up in the attic on the last Saturday in August, hiding from the rain and looking for entertainment in the dusty room of hidden treasures.

"His old bong," Luna repeated, brandishing the glassware at him.

"You know, that explains a _lot_," Harry replied, shaking his head with a laugh.

"Doesn't it, though?" She smiled, albeit with a touch of sadness. "Not my thing, but Daddy and Stubby Boardman had some crazy adventures with this thing, back in their callow youth."

"Do you mean Sirius Black?"

They laughed together. "No, I actually mean Stubby Boardman. He's a nice fellow, but a terrible influence. He used to pay Daddy a little something extra to tell insalubrious tales about him in _The Quibbler, _and padded my allowance so I would talk about him at school. Kept him relevant, he claimed."

"Erm, no, it didn't." They laughed again.

"Details, details. _The_ _Quibbler_ was never meant to be a gossip rag, anyway. It was meant to be a forum for people to discuss new ideas from the lunatic fringe, but it kind of devolved over the years. Of course, now that Rita Skeeter's got her hands on it..." She scowled and thrust the bong back into the old wardrobe. "You should see it, Harry. Actually, no, you shouldn't. No one should see it. It's awful."

Harry frowned, watching her as she came to sit on the floor next to him. "Babe, have you ever considered buying _The Quibbler_ back from her?"

"For three times her original purchase price?" Luna scoffed. Harry spluttered. "She can keep it. She's ruined the name anyway. If ever I decide to get back into publishing, I'll start my own damn magazine."

"That bitch," he growled.

"Indeed. What's in that safe, Harry?" She gestured at the rectangular metal box sitting on his ex-kitchen table, seeming eager to steer the conversation away from _The Quibbler – _and her father. Humouring her impulse to explore his past instead, he removed the wards and opened the safe's hinged lid.

"Photographs, mostly. The Snitch that Dumbledore willed to me. Various papers. Oh, look, the Marauder's Map." He kept digging. "Ouch!"

"What happened?" Luna gasped when Harry's thumb came out covered in blood. She grabbed his hand and healed the wound with her wand before he even had time to reply.

"Thanks. I forgot about the broken mirror in there," he replied sheepishly. "It's the communication mirror Sirius gave me. Aberforth Dumbledore still has the other one."

"May I see it?"

"Be careful," he warned her as he passed it over. "It's sharp. I wouldn't want you to cut yourself again."

She sat for a long time, just contemplating her reflection in the jagged shard of glass. Harry knew better than to disturb her – she was wearing the look of someone who was about to discover something very important. He continued poking through the safe, more carefully this time. He heard her sharp intake of breath and looked up, expecting to see that she had cut herself, but she was fine – better than fine, in fact. Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes sparkled with delight.

"Oh, my gods. Harry. You're a genius!" Luna carefully replaced the mirror in the safe before throwing her arms around him and planting a huge kiss on his lips.

"I am?" He kissed her back. "Why am I a genius?"

"You," she began, pausing to kiss him again, "are a genius" – more kisses – "because you just gave me the most amazing idea. Well, the start of an idea. I need to sleep on it."

"Glad I could help," Harry replied, bemused. Luna's arms were still wrapped around his neck, and he grinned lasciviously, caressing her waist gently. This time he kissed her slowly and sensually, nibbling lightly at her lower lip and tangling her tongue with his.

"How can I ever thank you?" she gasped, breaking the kiss.

Unable to help himself, Harry ground against her once, questioningly. She thrust back at him in invitation, making him groan with need. That seemed to be all the reply she needed. A devilish look overtook her sweet features, and she moved to nibble at his throat just below his jaw, inching her way down to his collarbone while her hands worked at the button of his jeans. He reached down to help her, and she slid one hand inside his underwear, cupping him delicately. He pressed himself against her palm with an animal grunt of lust; her touch was torture. Emboldened, she began kissing down his torso. It wasn't until she got on her knees in front of him that he realized what she was about to do.

"Oh, my gods, babe." Harry inhaled sharply. "Oh, shit."

A wicked giggle drifted up to him from below.

XoXoXoXoXoX

Much later that night, hovering on the periphery of sleep with Luna's head resting peacefully on his shoulder, Harry started thinking about marriage again. After their impromptu tryst, he had shown her the album Hagrid had given him, and seeing the images of his parents had made him wish fervently that they could be alive to meet her. _You both would have liked her,_ he thought.

The more he pondered it, the more certain Harry became that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with Luna. They never fought – when they disagreed, which wasn't often, they discussed things in a calm, rational manner. Decisions, from the mundane to the critically important, were always made together. If he'd had to describe their relationship in one word, he would have chosen "peaceful". It was the exact opposite of everything he'd experienced with Ginny – and it was everything he'd ever wanted. They fitted together perfectly; it was just a matter of asking her.

It had to be the right time and place, though, and a beautiful ring. He wanted to make the proposal something she'd remember all her life. He knew what Ron would say – that it was far too soon – but Harry thought he was ready. He just hoped that Luna was, too.

He wondered whether he should take someone with him to look for a ring. Or, perhaps he should have it custom made, as he had her earrings? _Hmmm. Whom to ask? Hermione? No, it's not really her thing. Fleur? Maybe. No, someone who knows Luna better. How about...Daphne. Daphne, and maybe Penny, too. _Yes, that made sense. They were Luna's closest female friends – they'd know better than anyone what she would like. He kissed the top of her wavy blonde head gently and gathered her closer to him, making her stir and murmur in her sleep. "I love you," he whispered.

XoXoXoXoXoX

Harry was rather at a loss for a way to speak to Daphne without Luna knowing. He finally decided he couldn't do it in person, so he wrote her a note.

_Daphne – I need your advice on something. Luna can't know about this. – Harry_

He sent it as an interdepartmental memo on Monday morning, and had barely waited five minutes before Daphne's unsigned reply arrived. He could practically hear her snort of derision as he opened it.

_Subtlety is not your strong suit, Potter. The goblin jeweller in Diagon Alley, Saturday at two. You'd better find something to distract Luna. _

"Leave it to Atropos to cut the bullshit," Harry muttered to himself.

The week flew by in a flurry of meetings, research, and sweet evenings spent at home with Luna. He didn't want to ruin the surprise, but he couldn't resist sussing her out a little, to see if marriage had ever crossed her mind. He was tempted to use Legilimency, but as her skill outstripped his, it was unlikely he could poke around in her head without her realizing it immediately. When Friday night rolled around, at Harry's suggestion, they took their usual yellow curry upstairs for a picnic in the attic. His basic plan was to look through his old photo albums again and try to steer the conversation toward Luna's childhood; he could find out what her dreams for the future had been. She commented often on the true nature of individual moments as they arrived, but she rarely spoke of her hopes for the future, or of the distant past.

Luna looked perfectly at ease sitting cross-legged on the floor, eating her curry in her customary manner and drinking a glass of white wine. They didn't often have wine with dinner, but they'd both agreed that it was a wine kind of night. "This was a good idea," she lilted, swirling the golden liquid in its tall-stemmed glass.

"The wine, or the picnic?" Harry filled his own glass.

"Both, actually." She cocked her head to the side and smiled. "You're quiet tonight."

_Oh, just plotting._ "Just thinking," he replied with a shrug. "This brings back a lot of memories." The safe sat between them as a makeshift table, a photo album from Harry's first few years post-Hogwarts open upon it. There were many unflattering but precious pictures of him getting drunk with Ron at various pubs, more formal snaps of him with Hermione and various Weasleys at the Burrow at Christmas, and some pictures of him with Ginny, which he turned quickly past.

"You don't have to do that." One gentle, slender white hand closed over his, stopping him. She turned back a few pages and peered at a picture of him with his ex, taken about a year after the fall of Voldemort. "She's very pretty. But you don't look happy here, even though you're smiling."

"We weren't. That's just before we broke up the second time, I think." He peered at the photograph. The figures in the image shuffled their feet nervously under his gaze, looking as if they weren't sure how to pose.

"Were you ever really happy together?" Her wide eyes were depthless silver-blue in the candlelit attic.

"Yes. Well, maybe, in the beginning. But we weren't doing a lot of...erm...talking back then, if you know what I mean." Harry glanced away for a moment, red-faced. It felt like sacrilege to speak of another woman in a sexual context to Luna, sort of like cursing in a cathedral. She didn't seem to mind at all, though – she was listening intently. "After the war, she was angry with me for breaking up with her and leaving her behind to go on a Horcrux hunt. She said I abandoned her, and I can see her point, I guess. I never expected to walk away and then come back without having to make amends, but she never let me forget, even though I apologized over and over. Eventually I broke up with her, but it wasn't a clean break, and we fell into this whole weird cycle. We'd break up, and after a few weeks she'd get lonely, so she'd and treat me really well and we'd get back together. It would be great for a few days, but I'd always do _something _to piss her off, and we'd start fighting and break up again. Then after a few weeks, she would call me, and on it went." He paused for a sip of wine.

"According to her, everything that went wrong between us was either a misunderstanding, or my fault. She thought she was always perfectly justified in everything she said and did, because _I _made her feel bad. It was like there was a hole inside her, and I kept dumping love into it, but I just couldn't fill it up – and she was angry with me for that. I don't know if she's always been like this, or what, but..." he trailed off and shrugged. "She is who she is. I should warn you, though, that she might do the same type of thing to you. Just because she apologized, don't expect the peace to last."

"Don't worry, I suspected as much. She _has_ been like that for a long time," Luna replied. "I was in her year, remember? I recall what she was like before she was taken into the Chamber of Secrets. She was so sad, always carrying that diary around and writing in it, and not talking to anybody. I know that the piece of the soul in the Horcrux influenced her, but if she hadn't needed someone to talk to, she never would have poured her soul out to Riddle in the first place." She smiled thoughtfully. "I always had Daddy, at least. I could owl him at any hour, and expect a reply just as fast as the owl could go." A sad, misty look crept into her eyes.

"He loved you, Luna." Harry reached out and stroked her cheek briefly. "More than anything. There's no shame in being his daughter. He wasn't perfect, but the best parts of him live on in you."

"That's very insightful, Harry," she said quietly.

"I had to come to terms with some of my dad's imperfections when Snape gave me Occlumency lessons in fifth year," he admitted. "It was devastating to find out that he really did kind of strut. He was a prick to Snape, too. My mum hated it. He had to come down a peg or two before she would even consider dating him."

"At least he never almost got somebody killed," Luna muttered. She was on her second glass of wine, and her grammar skills were failing commensurately.

"Actually, he did." Harry grimaced at the memory. "He hatched a little plan to send Snape down to the Shrieking Shack when Lupin was there during one of his transformations. Luckily, Dad changed his mind and sent Sirius in his Animagus form to stop Snape from getting eaten, but it was a near thing."

"And Snape always hated you for being your father's son," Luna mused, "much in the same way that Ginny hated me for being my father's daughter." She frowned. "You know, we're both only children of deceased parents. Neither of us has any family."

Just like that, the conversation fortuitously meandered directly into Harry's trap. "Is a family something you want someday?" The question was casual, his voice light, but his eyes searched her face. She stared off into space as she considered it.

"I..." She paused. "It's something that I never dared dream about. My mum had a hard time having kids, so I always thought I might have problems, too. That was assuming I could find anybody to have kids with in the first place, which I wasn't counting on." Her gaze shifted to him, her face held carefully blank. "What about you?"

"Oh, I've always wanted a family of my own," Harry said. "At least five kids," he added jokingly. "Maybe a Kneazle."

"_Five_ kids? That's a lot of punishment for one uterus. Also, I don't think I can give birth to Kneazles."

Harry cheered inwardly. _So she _has_ thought about what it would be like to have a future with me_, he thought. "That's okay. I fully intend to practice bigamy."

Luna laughed and finished her glass of wine. "Build a harem."

"Fill the stable."

She giggled and whacked him on the arm. "Arse."

When they stopped laughing, Harry pushed the safe out of the way and scooted in next to her, wrapping his arm around her. They leaned back somewhat awkwardly against the side of the old wardrobe, their legs stretched out in front of them. "So, you never thought you'd get married?"

"I didn't think anyone would ever want me," she said honestly.

He shook his head. "That's silly," he murmured, planting a gentle kiss on her cheek.

"Didn't seem silly at the time." Her blonde head came to rest on his shoulder. They sat in silence for a few moments, each sifting through old ghosts in the privacy of their thoughts.

"You know, you've never told me anything about your ex, although we've analyzed my relationship with Ginny pretty thoroughly," Harry probed.

Luna snorted. "Not worth mentioning. That's a year of my life I'd rather have back, thanks."

"That bad?"

"That bad." She leaned out of his embrace for a moment, reaching for the bottle. "I didn't think I could do any better. I thought being with him might be better than being alone. I was wrong." He scrutinized her face, looking for some hint of what might have happened, but her eyes remained on the rising level of the liquid in the glass as she poured herself a third measure of wine. "He criticized me all the time – my appearance, the way I talk, things like that. He especially hated it when I laughed in public. He said I made a fool of myself. I make a point of laughing out loud whenever I get the chance, these days. He doesn't matter." She settled back against Harry. "He's long gone, and I have more interesting things to think about these days."

"Do you still talk to anyone from Canada?"

"Just my friend Michael and his wife, Genevieve. Mike's an interesting fellow. He's a wizard, but he chose to work in the Muggle world as a physicist. Genevieve teaches at the Wizarding school in their town. I talk to them a few times a year." Luna grinned. "You'd like Gen. She's like the Canadian version of Fleur, except with dark hair. She has the French accent and everything."

"Don't they speak English in Canada?"

"In large part, yes, but there are two official languages. In one province, Quebec, the population is nearly entirely Francophone. There are other areas with large French populations, too – some parts of New Brunswick, which is on the east coast, and also in Manitoba, which is in the middle of the country." Luna smiled. "Gen is from Montreal originally – that's in Quebec, which is in the east – so she speaks both. Mike is hopelessly unilingual."

"Do you speak any French?" Harry asked, intrigued.

"A little. You get used to reading it, actually, because the printing on packaging and stuff is always French on one side, English on the other."

"I want to go there. It sounds fascinating."

"It's amazing," Luna confessed. "Maybe someday we'll go together, on holiday or something."

_Or on our honeymoon_, Harry thought. He stretched his legs – they were going numb from sitting on the hard floor. "Ooh. I'm all stiff." Luna snickered at this, making Harry laugh when he realized what he'd said. "Well, that wasn't what I meant, but now that you mention it..." He took his arm from around her and took her wineglass from her hand, setting both of them down on the floor a safe distance away. He turned back and took her into his arms again, staring into her silvery eyes. "I love you," he whispered.

"I love you too," she whispered back. A small smile curled the corner of her mouth. She had particularly nice mouth, he thought – expressive and sensual, with a deep bow and full lower lip that begged to be nibbled. He did just that, enjoying her little hum of arousal. Tiny hands pressed into his back, holding him close. One of his hands slipped down to her inner thigh, stroking her through the soft pyjama pants she was wearing. Slowly, he inched higher and higher, teasing her. He felt the need to connect with her this way, to be as near to her as he could be, naked and warm and lost in each other.

"Did you know that you're beautiful?" Harry whispered in her ear, punctuating the sentence with a nip at her earlobe, strategically placed so as to avoid her earring. She purred, encouraging him to lick at the tender spot just behind the point of her jaw.

"You keep telling me."

"It's true." He sank his teeth into the delicate flesh of her throat, just deeply enough to elicit a faint moan. "When I saw you at Hermione and Ron's wedding..."

Harry didn't know it, but the feel of his lips as he muttered against her neck sent shivery fire streaking down to Luna's core. "Hmmm?"

"I think that was the first time I ever really _saw_ you." He had made his way to her collarbone, sprinkling kisses over the silky skin while his hand began working at the buttons on her pyjama top. "You were hard to miss. You looked like an angel." The last button undone, he slid a hand inside and cupped her breast, stroking the nipple with his thumb. She responded with a growl of lust, an exotic sound from someone who was usually so sweet-voiced. It made the hair on the back of his neck stand up and a pulse of heat flash in his lower abdomen. A sweet ache was building within him, driving him to devour her.

Usually, their lovemaking was sweet and tender, but Luna's aggressive side was coming out that evening. She responded to Harry's touch with passionate intensity that both startled him and drove him mad with desire. She pushed him away momentarily and ripped his shirt off over his head, pulling him back to her and scratching her nails down his back while she attacked his mouth.

"Oh, gods." Harry could not help his groan of ecstasy, subsumed in the satiny slide of their skins as they clashed together in the semi-darkness of the attic. A faint laugh ghosted past his ear. No doubt about it – she enjoyed pushing him to the edge of his control and watching him drop over the side. He just kept falling and falling...

"Come with me," she breathed, disentangling herself from their pile of limbs and rising. He half-chased her down to her bedroom, where she leaped between the sheets with alacrity, leaving her remaining scraps of clothing in a trail behind her. Harry dropped his trousers while he was still walking, almost tripping in his hurry to follow her.

"Oh, that's better," he murmured, sliding into bed and pinning her under his weight. "Much more comfortable." She was ready for him – they pressed together with a mutual groan of satisfaction, and pleasure blotted out any other perception or sensation.

That night settled any anxiety in Harry's mind about proposing to Luna. He watched her face as they made love, noting her tendency to close her eyes, to block out visual stimulation so she could focus on the delights of the flesh. She opened her eyes near the end, locking her gaze with his until she squinched them shut again and cried out her pleasure. She was truly beautiful then; her eyes and skin glowed with their own light, her cheeks rosy with the heat of sexual expression.

She whispered to him as his pace quickened and he began to lose his rhythm, breathing sweetness and wickedness into his ear. He had never heard her melodic voice say such wanton things, and it drove him to completion. She drank in his hoarse cry with obvious relish; one corner of her luscious mouth curled upward knowingly_. I see you_, said her smile. _I see all of you. It's all right._

They showered together afterward, washing each other with long, lingering caresses and expressive glances. Later, when they were back in bed and drowsing, they picked up the dropped threads of their earlier conversation.

"Did Michael help you with your research in Canada?" Harry asked.

"He did." Luna grinned. "Well, more specifically, I helped him. He had been wondering for a long time, you know, if there was a way to quantify magical ability in a lab, or try to figure out how or why it is that we can do magic, but Muggles and Squibs cannot. It wasn't a work project, exactly, but Mike never really stops working. It's what he does for fun. I was his research subject." She snuggled deeper against Harry's chest.

"That's what you meant before, when you told me it was all about understanding how it works." He stroked her hair, enjoying her lavender-meadowsweet scent.

Luna hummed in agreement. "We didn't find out why some people can do magic and others can't, but we did find out a lot about the nature of magic."

"Like what?"

"Magic is mostly an exercise of the will," she explained. "The physical effects of magic are just that – physics – and there is a physical element to thought and will that most people never consider. That's why children sometimes cast spells by accident, especially under stress. They have the ability to manifest the physical effects of magic, but not with intent or direction. We decided to experiment with exercising our magical will without incantations or wands, to see if we could purposely recreate the kinds of things that happened to us accidentally as kids."

"And it worked, obviously. But how?"

"Well..." Luna sighed. "It's a bit hard to explain, but I'll try. A thought or memory is not something that you can touch, but there is a physical component to it. There has to be, because we are made of matter – the same stuff that makes up the Earth, and the stars, and the rest of what we understand as the 'real world'. Deep in your brain, there are arrangements of quanta that represent your memories and experiences. All sentient beings have them, but magical people and creatures are able to harness the matter-energy of willpower and manifest it in the physical world. That's the clearest explanation I can give you," she added, glancing up to see him staring confusedly at her. "I'm sorry if it doesn't make much sense."

Harry's brain was beginning to ache. "You really are a genius," he muttered, pressing a kiss to her temple.

"I can teach you to cast like I do," she yawned.

"Are you sure about that?" he asked doubtfully.

"Very sure. I got good at it the same way one gets good at anything else – I practiced all the time. That's the only secret – the base ability is already within you. As long as you can do magic, you can learn to cast as well as I."

"All right." Harry yawned too – it was growing very late. "Oh, I should blow out the candles in the attic."

Luna waved a hand at the ceiling. "Done."

"You're quite useful to have around."

"I know."

XoXoXoXoXoX

Harry did not have to reach too far for an excuse to keep Luna occupied. He made up a story about tagging along with Ron to pay a visit to Quality Quidditch Supplies, so Luna happily decided to spend the afternoon painting, extending the living room mural into the kitchen. When he left, she was sitting cross-legged in front of one wall with her hair pulled back in a high ponytail, humming to herself and swirling her paintbrush in a patch of sunny yellow on her palate.

Diagon Alley was very busy, with parents and Hogwarts students cramming the shops in search of school supplies. The jeweller was a dark, quiet oasis in the sea of chaos and noise. No sooner had he entered the shop than a deep, ironic female voice spoke up from the corner behind the door. "Nice of you to show up, Potter."

"Greengrass." Harry grinned at her. "Fancy meeting you here."

"Mister Potter." The goblin behind the counter seemed bored. "How may I be of service this afternoon?"

"What can you show me for engagement rings?"

"For the young lady?" The goblin indicated Daphne with a gesture.

"Alas, no. For another young lady, a friend of mine," the imperious blonde replied with a smile. "I'm here for moral support."

Unimpressed, the goblin led them to a display case at the back of the store, indicating that they should sit down in the wing chairs before it with another gesture. Rings of every description glittered in front of them, nestled in neat rows on ivory velvet cushions. "Tell me about the young lady in question," the goblin rasped.

"She's..." Harry trailed off and glanced at Daphne helplessly. "She's amazing."

"She's very sweet and very smart," Daphne said, rolling her eyes at him. "Delicate, too. I don't think any of these would be her style." One polished oval fingernail tapped the case above a cushion that displayed several chunky, diamond-encrusted baubles. Harry agreed – he couldn't see something that heavy-looking on Luna's tiny, slender finger.

"A practical sort, or fanciful?"

"Fanciful," Harry and Daphne said at the same time, and laughed.

The goblin ignored their good humour and considered the display case, stroking his chin with a thoughtful look. He reached for a specific cushion and wordlessly placed it on top of the case for them to look at. The rings were all very sparkly and very impressive, but Harry really didn't know the first thing about jewellery, other than the fact that goblins made it best. He slid his eyes toward Daphne, who was examining the selection closely.

"None of these will suit, I don't think," she mused, tapping one elegant finger against her lips. "They're all very...forgive me, but they're quite ordinary."

The goblin grinned evilly. "A smart mark, I see. I will return." He turned on his heel and disappeared into a back room, coming back with a flat, locked metal box. Unlocked, it proved to be a selection of empty settings, along with a small bag containing what must have been millions of Galleons' worth of diamonds.

"Ah, here we go, Harry," Daphne said, leaning in with interest. "Now you can find the perfect ring, and put whichever stone you choose in it." She pointed out a silvery setting. "Do you want white metal, like white gold or platinum? Or would you prefer yellow gold?"

"Erm..." Harry goggled open-mouthed at the box in front of him.

"Which does she wear most frequently?" The goblin put in impatiently.

"Well, she always wears the earrings I bought for her, and they're yellow gold. But I didn't know there were other metals to choose from when I ordered them."

"If you don't know what she would like, go by the undertones in her skin," Daphne said.

Harry shot her a blank look. "Erm...she's pale?"

Daphne rolled her eyes again and grabbed his arm with a sigh, pushing up the sleeve of his robes and holding the underside of her forearm out next to his for comparison. "Look at the veins in your arm. You have cool, bluish undertones, so your veins look blue under the skin. I have warm, golden undertones, so my veins look more greenish. Do you see?"

When she pointed it out, he _could_ see the difference. He thought hard, remembering Luna dancing in the kitchen. Specifically, he remembered her nipples – soft, golden rose. "Warm," he said. "She has warm undertones, even though her eyes are silver." As his eyes swept over the tray of rings, the perfect setting caught his eye. It was neither white nor yellow gold, but faintly pink. He'd never seen anything quite like it. "May I see that one?"

"Rose gold. An alloy of copper and gold," the goblin explained. "A most unusual choice."

Harry looked down at the little ring in his hand. It was a slender, delicate filigree band, with four double-pronged claws to hold the stone in place. There was something about it that appealed to him – it had an old-fashioned, ethereal look. "This reminds me of her," he said honestly. "What about the diamond?"

"That ring is meant for a cushion-cut stone," the goblin said, selecting a few stones and spreading them reverently on a black velvet cloth he laid out on the glass display case. "It can be charmed to hold anywhere from a quarter-carat to a three-carat gem."

"Carrot gem?" Predictably, Harry was utterly baffled.

"_Carat_, Harry." Daphne snickered. "The weight of the stone. And three carats would be perfectly ridiculous on someone as tiny as Luna. She would never wear something that huge. I think you'd do fine with a half-carat."

"What's a cushion-cut?"

"Not quite round, not quite square," she replied, indicating one gem with a forefinger. "Like that. They're meant to look like overstuffed pillows, hence the name." Harry liked that idea – it reminded him of throw pillows, and their special significance. The diamond that Daphne pointed out had a pleasant, mellow sparkle to it, but when he examined it closely, Harry found that he could see a small black speck in the centre. Daphne saw it, too. "Oh, that won't do," she said, addressing the goblin. "It's got a visible inclusion. Have you got a half-carat cushion-cut stone, VVS2 or better?"

_I_ _am so, _so_ glad I brought you with me, Daphne,_ Harry thought. The woman was speaking utter gibberish as far as he was concerned, but the goblin seemed to know exactly what she was asking for, and did have such a stone, which he passed to Daphne for inspection. "Will this do?"

She held out her other hand, curling the fingers in an impatient gesture. "Loupe." The goblin pressed a little spyglass into her palm. She held it against her right eye and squinted at the gem, turning it this way and that. Finally, at long last, she put the loupe down on the counter. "This will do nicely. Set it for us; let's see how the finished product looks."

Thanks to magic, it was a simple matter for the goblin to set the stone into the ring. "Wow," Harry commented, tilting it back and forth to watch it sparkle. "What do you think, Daphne?"

For a moment, Daphne looked incredibly sad, but the look passed quickly from her features, replaced with her usual wry grin. "It's gorgeous, Harry," she assured him. "That'll get you laid, for sure."

"I'll wrap it up, then," the goblin grunted. "Will you be purchasing the wedding band to match?"

XoXoXoXoXoX

"Are you okay, Daph?" They had left the store and were preparing to hit the Cauldron for a quick drink before going their separate ways. Daphne had professed a desire to "coach" Harry on proper proposal techniques, from a woman's perspective, and he was only too happy to accept her help.

"Yeah, of course. Why wouldn't I be, Mr. Sensitive, Intuitive Man?" They pushed their way into the pub and visited Tom at the bar, each taking a Butterbeer to a booth in the back.

"You're quiet, that's all," Harry said when they were seated. "I mean, I'm enjoying the silence and everything, but..."

Daphne sighed. "All right. Fine. I'm jealous." She plopped into her seat across from him, looking glum. "It's just that I've been with Theo since we were kids, and still no ring. I'm...starting to get tired of waiting," she admitted. "I mean, I love the stupid arse. My parents and his father would very much like for us to make it official – pureblood family tree bullshit, you know – but I just want us to be a family, all on our own. We already are, but I'd like to be Daphne Nott already."

"Here's a thought," Harry said slowly. "Well, more like a question, but I do have a point. With me and Luna, did you see it coming?"

"Oh, hell yeah," Daphne responded instantly. "I knew the second I saw her that first morning at work after you got together. I'm Atropos. I get paid to figure this stuff out."

"Touché." He took a swig of his Butterbeer. "So, do you see it coming for Theo and you? Like, ever?"

"Theo has the unique distinction of being extremely difficult for me to read," she replied. "Most people are quite obvious in their motives, if you know what to look for. Not Theo, though." _She reminds me of Luna_, Harry thought. _Luna, with a much sharper edge to her._ "I'm honestly not sure what he's planning. Probably nothing, that's the problem."

"Have you ever tried talking to him about it?"

Daphne scoffed. "Have you ever tried trapping a Slytherin into a conversation he doesn't want to have?"

"So, you're not going to do anything about it?"

"What can I possibly do? I can't _make_ him want to marry me," she grumbled. "And I don't want to marry somebody that I had to talk into it. I want him to want me, too. It's not worth doing otherwise."

"Speaking of talking someone into marrying you, I believe you had some words of wisdom for me?"

"Oh, that. Have you thought of how you're going to propose?"

"I've thought of what I want to say, but I don't know how to go about saying it." Harry looked mildly panicked. "It's got to be just right."

"Well, do you want her to find the ring herself, or do you want to surprise her by whipping it out?"

"She won't be surprised if I whip it out. I do that all the time."

Daphne laughed in spite of herself. "Seriously, though."

"I think I want to bring out the box," he declared after a moment's consideration. "I'm going to do this the old-fashioned way."

"Going to take her somewhere special?" Daphne drank deeply from her bottle, waiting for him to continue.

"That's what I'm not sure about," Harry groaned. "I don't want to give myself away by acting strange, but I really want to do this right."

"Hmmm." She finished off the last of her Butterbeer and regarded him thoughtfully. "There are ways to make a night at home extraordinary. I'm sure Penny and I can find a way to keep her late at work one night so you can make some...preparations."

Harry grinned slyly and rubbed his palms together. "Let's pick a night."

XoXoXoXoXoX

The chosen night was the following Friday; Harry nearly herniated something, he was holding in his anticipation so tightly. Try as he might to act normal, Luna had noticed the change in him. She had started looking at the air around him again, and one night, Harry distracted her from his strange behaviour by asking her about it. "Why do you do that?"

"Do what?" She cocked her head to the side slightly.

"Look at the air around me like that."

"I can tell when someone is saying one thing and thinking another," she confessed. "It takes almost as much magical energy to suppress one's will as it does to manifest it. If someone has an unexpressed desire, or a hidden motive, the Wrackspurts will usually make it quite clear." She looked slightly sheepish. "I used to think they were creatures. I realize now that they're phenomena. No wonder Daddy's Wrackspurt siphons didn't work."

"So, you're telling me that if I think too hard, I give off sparks?"

"For lack of a better metaphor, yes." A wave of sorrow broke on her features for a moment. "Daddy used to say that when I was lost in thought, he could 'hear the grey wheels turning'. Even if most people can't see Wrackspurts without help, doesn't mean they can't sense them."

"But you can see them without help, can't you?" They were lying in bed, facing each other on their sides and getting ready for sleep, but Harry had a feeling that sleep might not come easily that night.

"Yes," she replied simply.

He was quiet for a long while, remembering the brief look of pain that had crossed her face when she spoke of her father, even in passing. He reached out one warm, sure hand and stroked her bare arm. The cool skin felt like living porcelain under his fingers. "You know, babe, I think you've got some Wrackspurts, too."

"I do?" She smiled uncertainly at him, dipping her head to kiss his fingers when his hand wandered up to her shoulder.

"You've still never told me the last thing you said to your dad," he told her, "and every time you talk about him, you get this look on your face like your heart is breaking a little bit more. I think it's time for you to tell me. You have to tell somebody, babe. It's never going to heal, otherwise."

She closed her eyes in shame. A single tear slipped out of the corner. "I – I don't think I can."

"I can use Legilimency on you, if you want," Harry murmured. His hand slipped up to fondle the back of her neck. "If you'll let me in."

She shook her head jerkily. "I don't want you to see this."

"Why, babe?" He leaned forward and kissed her tenderly on the forehead. "Why?"

"I'm afraid you'll stop loving me," Luna whispered.

The temptation to skip the fancy proposal and just whip out the ring was strong for Harry at that moment. "That's unlikely," he assured her. She finally opened her eyes, and emerald locked with silver in a questioning gaze. _May I?_

"This is a part of me you've never seen," she warned_._

"It's okay." He captured her cheeks between his palms and kissed her sweetly, thumbing away her tears. "I'm not afraid." He leaned over to the nightstand and retrieved his wand. He was good enough at Legilimency that he did not have to aim his wand at her, but he still needed to hold it for his spell to work. He turned back to Luna and stared deeply into her eyes; it felt like falling into silver pools, falling forever. "Legilimens."

_Luna was in her bedroom (now the guest room), throwing clothing and various belongings willy-nilly into her old school trunk. Xeno was sitting on the bed, a look of abject despair creasing his face. "Luna, please listen to me. I had to do it, Lulu. I really did. They would have killed you otherwise. Lestrange promised me she would kill you herself if I didn't turn Potter in. They knew he would come here –" _

"_Then you should have let me die! Harry was more important than anybody in the war, Daddy – I would rather have died than live to see you turn him over to the enemy! You got Dobby killed, and we are all very lucky that he was the only casualty." Luna's voice was hard and flat and strident, louder than Harry ever remembered hearing it. "Well, not the only one. Hermione Granger was _tortured_, Daddy – tortured because of _you_." Every word dripped with rage – it was ugly and foreign from her mouth. "I was with her, afterward, you know. I held her in my arms while she went into shock. I got her blood on me." She waved her open palms at her father, as if they were still stained with crimson. "I helped bury Dobby, too, and held Harry while he cried. I always wind up paying for your mistakes, don't I?"_

"_Lulu, please, honey, don't do this," Xeno begged, burying his face in his hands. His shoulders shook._

"_Don't call me that!" she spat. "You've ruined my life! You have no _idea_ how much I've suffered because of you. I have no friends, nothing to look forward to here – nothing!" She slammed the lid of her trunk shut. "I can't even take over the magazine from you, it's in such a state. My gods, man, is there anything you've touched that you haven't destroyed?"_

_Xeno's only answer was a wail of agony. Luna waved her wand at her trunk and Reduced it with a muttered incantation, stuffing it into her pocket and storming to the door. When she reached it, she turned and spoke with immense sorrow. "You are a fool, and I am ashamed of you. Goodbye, Daddy."_

When Harry withdrew from his lover's mind, he simply held her while she sobbed in his arms. He kept replaying her words over and over again in his mind – _I helped bury Dobby, too, and held Harry while he cried_ – and thinking about all the times she'd been there, all the times she had been his rock, and he hadn't even realized it. She buried her face in his neck while he rubbed her back in little circles and rocked her gently, whispering endearments. He didn't know how she could have that many tears in such a tiny body, but they flowed and flowed and seemed unending. _I wonder how many years' worth of tears are here,_ came the scattered thought. Eventually, she quieted to snuffles and hiccups. Harry squeezed her and kissed her forehead. "Guess what?"

"What?" Luna wiped her eyes.

"I still love you."

XoXoXoXoXoX

On Thursday night, Daphne, Penny, and Harry had a quick huddle before leaving work while Luna was in the bathroom.

"All right, so here's the plan," Daphne began, grinning and rubbing her hands together. "I talked to Charlie – he's on board – so I'm going to have an 'unforeseen incident' in the Brain Room tomorrow afternoon at 3:55. Penny will make sure that Martin and everyone else have cleared out, so Luna will be the only one around to 'help' me." She chortled evilly. "Charlie's promised to really ham it up."

Harry laughed. "Wicked."

"What are you going to do, Harry?" Penny looked excited – or as excited as the unflappable woman ever got, anyway.

"Let's just say that there are ways to make the ordinary _extraordinary_, Penny," he replied. "Oh, shit. Here she comes."

"Ready?" Luna came over and linked her arm with Harry's.

_Hell yes. I can't wait. _"Yup! Let's go," he said with a smile.

**A/N Part Deux: Hands up if you pushed up your sleeve and checked out your veins. Yeah, I thought so. Next, the big proposal...**


	9. Beginnings and Endings

**A/N: Herein thou shalt discover Chapter the Ninth, in which Harry asks a very big question, and the sisters Greengrass take on Wizarding London's night life. Man-eater alert! ^_^**

**Due to my hectic schedule, I rarely have time to respond to reviews personally. However, some of you have paid me incredible compliments that have really kept me going, and I want you to know that your support is food for the soul. A million thanks to you all. I hope I'm making you laugh a lot, squee every now and again (yes, even if you're a dude – I won't tell anyone), sigh sometimes, and think a little bit. **

**If you're having trouble with the pace of Harry and Luna's relationship, just know that I write from a place of experience where that is concerned. Sometimes, dreams really do come true.**

**Chapter 9 – Beginnings and Endings (Or, If there's Greengrass on the Field, Play Ball)**

On Friday morning, Luna arrived at work to find a very distraught Daphne waiting for her in her office. That was unusual in itself, but Luna knew things were bad when she saw the state of Daphne's nails and hair. The tall, curvaceous blonde normally presented herself immaculately – Pureblood breeding and all, as she was fond of saying – but today, her usually silky hair was rumpled and full of static, and her nails had all been chewed off.

"What happened, Daphne?" Luna didn't waste any time; she sat in the other visitor's chair and took her friend's hand, peering into her puffy brown eyes.

"Theo and I broke up," she said thickly, her voice breaking on the last word.

"Oh, Daphne." Luna hugged her, feeling the shattered witch begin to weep in her arms. "This is unexpected. What happened?" she repeated.

"It was awful," Daphne moaned. "I –I tried to talk to him about getting married. I thought maybe – maybe he'd be ready, you know? We've been together for so long." She conjured a tissue and blew her nose. "I proposed to him, actually. I had a ring and everything. Not only did he turn me down flat, he was angry with me for 'pressuring' him. I told him I was sick of waiting. I've already given him everything a wife would give – why can't he give me this?" Her voice was rising with each word, becoming steadily shriller. "He just won't listen. Anyway, we had a terrible row, and he walked out on me. I don't know where he's gone. He told me that he thought he meant more to me than just a title." She shook her head, barking a short, humourless laugh. "S'funny, I thought _I_ meant more to him than to just throw away six years together."

_This is bad,_ Luna thought_. Daphne doesn't cry, and she _never _babbles. _She rocked her friend back and forth a little, letting her sob it out. She didn't know what to say. What _could_ she say? "Do you want to come and stay at my place tonight? We can kick Harry out of the living room and have an old-fashioned girl's night. He won't mind. We'll –"

"No, I couldn't impose," Daphne murmured. "Especially not on your Friday night, I know how much they mean to you."

"Extenuating circumstances," Luna persisted. "Come on. It's not good for you to be alone right now."

"It's okay, Luna. Thanks. I'm going to spend the night at Astoria's. We're going to drown our sorrows together, maybe go out on the prowl."

"Daphne, are you sure that's a good idea?" Luna frowned worriedly at her.

"I'll be fine. I'm not going to drag some poor, unsuspecting random back to my sister's place to shag, I promise. I'm just going to have a good night out. There's no sense in sitting at home moping. I'll just feel worse if I do that."

Luna regarded her friend doubtfully. "There's no shame in taking the time you need to heal."

"I know that," Daphne replied too quickly. "I just –"

"If you need me, call me, all right?" Luna interrupted. "I know you're going to do whatever you want, but if you get in a spot, make me your first call, no matter what time it is. Send your Patronus, and I'll come to you."

"I will." Daphne rose from her chair, still sniffling. "Thanks. See you at lunch?"

When she was gone, Luna pulled a piece of parchment and a quill out of her desk.

_Babe, Daphne and Theo broke up. She's in a bad way._

XoXoXoXoXoX

"Oh, fuck," Harry groaned.

"What?" Ron was in his office with him, reading over the latest field reports from Proudfoot and Savage, when Harry received Luna's missive.

"Daphne and Theo broke up."

"Why do _you_ care?" Ron looked irritated at the mention of Daphne's name. He was different about Penny, as she had dated Percy when they were still at Hogwarts, but he stubbornly refused to accept the blonde Slytherin into their circle.

"She's our _friend,_ Ron."

"She's not _my_ friend," the redhead scoffed.

"I meant Luna's and my friend, but she'd be _your_ friend too, if you'd stop being such a bloody arsehole." Harry glared at him.

"Oh, gods, you're using the royal 'we' now?"

"I said '_our'_, not 'we'." Harry sighed testily. "Ron, you're the closest thing I have to a brother, but I have to ask you to watch your bloody mouth about my girlfriend and my new friends, because she's not going to be just my girlfriend after tonight." He dug in his pocket and produced a small black flocked box, which he opened to reveal Luna's ring. "Daphne came with me on Saturday to get this. It wouldn't be nearly as brilliant as it is without her help. I love Luna, and I'm going to ask her to be my wife. I'd like your support, but I'm going to do this either way."

Ron spluttered. _"Already? _Harry, that's crazy! You've only been together for three months! It took me _years_ to figure out that Hermione and I were meant to be together, and we _still_ waited _four years_ to get married!"

"It took _me_ years too, Ron. I've known Luna since I was fifteen, remember?" Harry reminded him. "But now that I _have_ figured it out...it's true, what they say. When you know, you just _know_, and I don't see any point in waiting. Look, if you're really my friend, you'll be happy knowing that Luna makes _me_ happy. Happier than I ever knew I could be. She's always been good to you, too, so you have no call to treat her the way you do."

Ron looked down at his hands. "I just – I never would have thought in a million years that you and _Loony_ – I mean, Luna" – he corrected himself hurriedly when he saw Harry's thundercloud face – "would ever get together."

"I'm not asking you to understand it, Ron," Harry replied softly. "I'm asking you to treat my future wife with the respect she deserves. She's talented, and beautiful, and way smarter than me, and she has the biggest heart. She's the _best _person I know." His words seemed to have an effect on his gangly, redheaded friend; Ron stared at the floor with a dopey, faraway look on his face for a few moments before he spoke again.

"You know, that's exactly what I told Hermione once, when she asked me why I loved her. Almost word-for-word."

"It's incredible, isn't it?" Harry said. "Feeling this way about someone, I mean."

"Sometimes...sometimes I wish I could go back to the Yule Ball in fourth year and do things right," Ron confessed. "Ask Hermione as soon as I hear about it, and save up for new robes and everything. I feel like I missed out on time that I should have been spending with her all along."

"That's how I feel about Luna!" Harry exclaimed with a grin. "See, Ron, you _do_ understand. Just – please, give Luna a chance. She deserves it." He glanced down at the note on his desk. "Oh, she's probably waiting for a reply." He flipped the parchment over and scribbled a quick response on the other side.

_We'll get her through it. See you at lunch? PS – You're rubbing off on me. Tell you later._

"You two really are sickening," Ron observed, reading Harry's note upside down. He was smiling, though, and shaking his head. "I've lost twenty pounds since you took up together. A man can't eat a proper lunch with all that going on."

XoXoXoXoXoX

Lunch was a quiet affair, with a sniffling Daphne sandwiched between Luna and Harry. Luna's huge, silver-blue eyes were even wider than usual, following her friend's every movement with a sorrowful expression. Harry watched his future wife with an inward smile, observing how tenderly she took care of the hurting witch: making sure she ate at least a little, listening quietly while Daphne talked, and holding her friend's hand when the tears started to fall again. _Gods, I love her,_ he thought. Ron and Penny sat across from them, bereft of words. Neither had ever seen the caustic, droll blonde in such a state.

"I just – I can't believe it," Daphne wailed. "I just can't believe it. This isn't how I thought things would go. I don't understand how he could just get up and leave me after everything we've been through."

Ron, who had been utterly silent until this point, chose this moment to speak up. "You know something, Daphne? There was a time in my life, once, when I walked out on some people who really needed me, including my wife, although we were just kids at the time. Honestly, I was under so much stress and in so much pain at the time, I just had to get out. I couldn't think with everything in my face." He grimaced at the memory. "I barely know Theo, so I don't know what he might be thinking, but if he's anything like me..." Ron shrugged. "Give him time. He might surprise you."

Daphne gave Ron a watery smile. "You think so?" _Oh, well done, Ron,_ Harry thought proudly.

"That's what I was thinking too," Penny piped up. "Wait a bit before you decide that you're definitely over."

"But do I _want _to wait around for him?" Daphne sniffled. "I mean, if he'd rather live without me than promise to live with me forever, what does that say about our relationship?"

"Daphne, I think Theo just overreacted," Harry put in. "Ron's right. Give him time before you try talking to him again. We're talking about a week or two, not forever. You both need to cool down and think about this."

"Yeah, I guess." She suddenly looked exhausted. "Eurgh, lunch is almost over. I'm working with Charlie all afternoon. I hope he goes easy on me today, I'm really not in the mood."

Harry walked all three Unspeakables back to the Department of Mysteries, but stopped at the Brain Room and gave Luna a quick kiss. "You go on ahead, babe. I just want to talk to Daphne for a second." She gave him a guarded look in response, but said nothing as she continued to her office.

Daphne was sitting at one of the desks around Charlie's tank, pulling her hair back into a ponytail. Harry walked over and sat on the edge of the desk. "Hey."

"Hey." She gave him a wan smile. "You want to know when I got the ring."

"Before or after?"

"After," she admitted. "I went back to the jeweller and picked it out. I got to thinking about when you said, 'so, you're not going to do anything about it?' and I thought well, maybe there _is_ something I can do." She sighed. "We were having a great night, and I honestly thought he was going to say yes – but my little plan backfired rather badly. So much for my brilliant tactical skills."

"You are deadly to a man's ribs, Daphne, so I can vouch for your tactical skills." Harry grinned, and she smiled back, a real smile this time. "I get the feeling there's more going on with Theo than just not wanting to get married, though."

Daphne laughed bitterly at this. "Good gods, Potter, Luna's taught you a thing or two. As a matter of fact, there is." Her expression soured. "His father – well, when I say it's amazing the reach a man can have from Azkaban, just trust me on that."

Harry frowned deeply. "I don't think I can leave it there, Daph. This sounds like something I should hear as an Auror."

"Maybe." She lowered her voice. "Look, I'll tell you what I know, and you tell me if you want me to make an official report."

XoXoXoXoXoX

Harry looked frazzled when he arrived in Luna's office fifteen minutes later with a piece of parchment in hand. "Babe, something's come up." He looked up to see Luna sitting behind her desk, writing busily. "Oh. Discover something important?"

"Possibly. I'm working on a new theory." She put her quill down and looked directly at him for the first time since he'd entered the room. Her expression was sad and somewhat grim. "Is Daphne all right?"

"Yes, but we might have a problem on our hands in the Auror office. I need to spend the afternoon upstairs."

"Oh." She looked disappointed. "Well, before you go, can I ask you a question?"

"Anything," he replied with a grin. His face fell, though, when Luna spoke again.

"Are you planning to break up with me?" Her silver-blue eyes watched him intently, also flickering to gauge the air around him.

"What? No! Babe, where'd you get that idea?"

"It was one of several possibilities," Luna said quietly. "I wanted to eliminate it first."

"What are you talking about?"

"My latest theory on the object is that it shows you what you need to see. Kind of like the Mirror of Erised," she explained, still speaking softly, "but based on need, not desire." She slid the piece of parchment toward him. He would have expected her to have a girlish, rounded hand, but her penmanship was clear and elegant. "I'm going through all the possible symbolic meanings I can think of for a knife. You've been surrounded by Wrackspurts lately, so there's something big you're not telling me." She gestured at the piece of paper in his hand. "I know we said we'd take things slow, and then we didn't, and I was starting to wonder if you have regrets. I thought perhaps it was showing me a severing of ties..."

"Babe." Harry couldn't help it – he started to laugh. Picking up her quill, he crossed off the word _betrayal_ at the top of the page with a thick, black line. "You've got nothing to worry about. I'm not going to pull a Theo, I promise." He stood up and came around to her side of the desk. "I'll tell you this, though – you are very difficult to plan a surprise for."

"Oh?" Luna's expression cleared. "What kind of a surprise?"

"You'll find out soon," Harry promised. He stooped to kiss her tenderly. "I've really got to spend the afternoon upstairs, unfortunately. I'll meet you at home at the usual time?" _Or not, if Charlie comes through for me._

"All right." She still seemed solemn, but kissed him without reservation before he left.

XoXoXoXoXoX

"I'm glad you brought this to my attention, Potter." Dawlish frowned over the parchment on his desk. Harry was sitting across from him, a similar frown marring his clear-drawn features. "This is concerning, indeed."

"Do you think we should let Gawain know?"

"Oh, I think so. The implications are disturbing, to say the least." The older man sighed, rocking back in his chair and rubbing his eyes tiredly. "Just when I think we're done with this shit..."

"It's only talk. This sounds like the kind of plan that takes a long time to set in motion, and nothing has come of it, as far as Daphne knows. Still, I can only guess who else is involved." Harry gave him a meaningful glance. "Do you think we should keep an eye on Draco Malfoy?"

"Perhaps. We'll see what Gawain says." Dawlish looked thoughtful. "Although, I hardly think him a likely suspect. Lucius had his sentence reduced considerably in exchange for his testimony, and they've got the blond bastard in protective custody, so I doubt he would be too friendly with Jacob Nott. From what I've heard, Malfoy's been a model prisoner. Still, one never knows, especially where the Malfoy family is concerned."

"Agreed," Harry sighed. "All right, I'll have the draft report to you by the end of the day. Let's see what Gawain says."

XoXoXoXoXoX

Luna dropped her quill and ran out of her office door when she heard screaming and splashing from the direction of the Brain Room. It was only five minutes to four, but the entire place seemed to be deserted; no one answered when she called for Martin and Penny. She skidded to a halt in the doorway when she saw what was going on. The mischievous brain had reached out with his giant tentacles, picked Daphne up by the waist, inverted her, and was repeatedly dipping her head into the brine that filled his tank, dulling her screams to gargling each time.

"Oh, Merlin, Charlie!" Luna hollered at him, drawing her wand. "Put her down! No, on her _feet_!"

XoXoXoXoXoX

Harry looked up when an ethereal Thestral glided unexpectedly through the attic window. He was busy scattering throw pillows all over the floor and setting candles around the room, preparing for Luna's arrival from work.

"Babe, I'll be late," said the Thestral in Luna's exasperated voice. "Charlie decided to 'cheer Daphne up'. I'm going to help her with the mess. See you soon. I love you." Its task complete, the ghostly messenger dissolved into nothingness.

"Your Patronus changed, Luna," Harry thought out loud. It made him wonder about his own. It had been awhile since he'd last cast a Patronus, so he drew his wand and thought about swimming in the grove. _"Expecto Patronum!"_

Sure enough, a unicorn sprang from the tip of his wand and pranced once around the room before puffing away in a wisp of magical smoke. He smiled in wonder for a moment, but groaned when he realized what would happen when Ron and George saw his new Patronus. "Bollocks. They'll never let me live this down."

XoXoXoXoXoX

"Harry?" It was after five when Luna finally Apparated into the kitchen. She was expecting to see him waiting for her with the Friday night usual, but there was no sign of him. "Where did you go?" she wondered out loud. Suddenly, a note on the table caught her attention.

_To find your surprise, begin your search where you look for answers._

Luna giggled. "Hmmm." She headed up the stairs to the library. The torches on the walls flared immediately when she walked in, but there was no obvious indication that she had solved Harry's riddle correctly; the room was silent and deserted. She peeked up and down the aisles of books. He wasn't there, and a quick search yielded no clues. "Oooh. Well done, Harry. I underestimated you." She tapped a finger against her lips thoughtfully. "Well, it did say to _search_."

She peered under tables and over bookshelves, scouring the room for any hint at all. When she finally found it, she was shocked that she hadn't seen it immediately. Hanging from the torch sconce nearest Madam Pince was a small gauze bag with a ribbon tie. Luna dug inside the bag eagerly, withdrawing a handful of puzzle pieces, which she poured out on the nearest tabletop. The pieces were large and chunky; it was clearly not meant to be a difficult puzzle, but she appreciated the creativity of Harry's game. She slid the pieces quickly into place, forming another note.

_To continue your search, look in the place where we first came together. _

Luna snickered at the double entendre. "Nice." She left the library and headed back down to the living room. In the middle of the rug sat a large, square box, which she had not noticed from the kitchen when she'd returned home from work. She lifted the lid to reveal an assortment of her favourite Honeydukes indulgences: sugar quills, chocolate frogs, and an assortment of Bertie Bott's. Tied to the bundle of sugar quills was another note.

_The final clue awaits you in the place where love is made._

"Oh, that's easy," Luna laughed. She ran up the stairs with giddy delight to her bedroom to find a note waiting for her on her pillow.

_Your surprise can be found in the place where memories are kept, and memories are made._

She smiled, ascending the stairs to the attic. She was totally unprepared for the sight that greeted her when she opened the door. The light coming in through the windows had been blocked out with dark curtains that had been conjured for the occasion, and candles cast a soft glow over the room. A large space on the floor was occupied by enlarged throw pillows; Harry sat in the centre of them, waiting for her with a bottle of chilled champagne and two glasses.

"Hi!" he greeted her, his green eyes glittering with excitement. He ran a hand nervously through his already messy black hair and grinned. She came to sit next to him, planting a sweet, tender kiss on his lips.

"Hello!" Luna kissed him again enthusiastically. "I love my surprise!"

"Oh, this isn't your surprise. All in good time." Harry unwrapped the foil from the neck of the champagne bottle and twisted the wire mechanism that would release the cork. Luna let out a little shriek when it popped and the sparkling wine began to foam out of the neck of the bottle, making Harry laugh. He poured two glasses and handed one to her.

Luna's hair was a bit wild from wrestling with Charlie, and her work robes were rumpled, but Harry still thought she looked lovely, especially by candlelight. Her glorious, otherworldly eyes were shimmering with love and enjoyment, and her skin was luminescent in the semi-darkness. "So, are you going to reveal my surprise?"

Harry grinned and pulled out his wand. "Not just yet. I have another, smaller surprise for you first." He pulled out his wand. "I noticed earlier today that your Patronus has changed. Do you remember what my Patronus is?"

"A stag, of course." Luna looked puzzled.

"Not anymore." He waved his wand, holding the memory of her sun-dappled, naked skin in his mind. _"Expecto Patronum!"_

Luna gasped when a ghostly unicorn sprang from the wand's tip and pranced majestically around the room before evaporating. "Oh, Harry, it's lovely!"

"It's perfect," he said. "It reminds me of you. Unicorns are rare and beautiful, and their trust is hard for a man to win, but if you can coax one over to you..." Putting his champagne flute down, Harry caressed Luna's cheek with the backs of his fingers. "You don't ever let it go."

She melted visibly. "Oh, Harry."

"You've totally changed my life, you know that?" he murmured, focusing on the curve of her tantalizing mouth as she smiled at him. He couldn't resist tracing her lips with his forefinger. "Gods, I love you so much. I just wish I could go back to do things differently, so we wouldn't have wasted four years we should have spent together." His hand came to rest lightly on the back of her neck, his thumb caressing her skin over and over.

Luna disagreed with his last thought, though she purred with pleasure at his touch. "I've been thinking a lot about that, actually, and it wasn't wasted time. We weren't right for each other when we were younger. We really didn't have a lot in common, other than the fact that we went to the same school, and we were on the same side in a brutal war." She smiled. "We've grown together in our time apart, strangely enough. Some of the growing was painful, but it was worth it, if it means I get to be with you now."

"Actually, I was hoping you'll be with me a lot longer than just now." Harry withdrew his hand and pulled a small black box from his pocket, opening the lid to reveal the ring. Luna gasped, her huge silver eyes flooding with tears. Harry swallowed convulsively. "I meant what I said – I don't ever intend to let you go. You are the most incredible woman I have ever known, in every way. You're brilliant, and funny, and so loving, and sexy, and I think I was missing a part of my soul until you gave it back to me. I could never live without you again and be happy. Will you please be my wife, Luna?"

Silver tears tracked down Luna's cheeks. She couldn't speak, or she would burst into sobs, so she wordlessly held out her left hand to him. He removed the ring from the box and slid it onto her finger – a perfect fit, naturally, as goblin-made rings automatically resized themselves for the wearer. She tilted her hand back and forth to let the diamond catch the light, and seemed to find her voice again. "Oh, Harry. Oh my gods."

"You like it?" He could not hide his relief. "Oh, thank Merlin."

"I love it. I love you." She threw her arms around him and kissed him soundly. "Oh. Yes, by the way."

He let out a whoop of delighted glee and squeezed her, crashing his lips against hers again in another joyful kiss. "Oh, gods, I am so lucky."

"Me too," Luna said simply. Her stomach chose that moment to growl, making them both laugh. "I'm starving. My goodness, what a day."

"I thought of that." Harry grinned and cast a quick _Finite Incantatem_ at the old kitchen table, removing the notice-me-not and warming charms he'd cast over it earlier. It was set for two, with several dishes steaming gently in the centre.

"And you tell me _I'm_ incredible," she sighed happily. Harry pulled out her chair for her and they sat down, heaping escargot, blue rare steak, and butter chicken onto their plates. "Thank you, babe."

"Least I could do." Harry smiled. "You can thank Daphne when you see her. She helped me pick out the ring last weekend. I'm sorry I lied," he added apologetically. "About where I was, I mean, but under the circumstances..." Luna's mouth was full of steak, but her shining eyes told him he was forgiven. He smiled ruefully. "I guess I inspired her. Too bad it ended so badly for her and Theo."

"Oh, I'm not sure it's over just yet," Luna said between bites. "Have you ever met Theo?"

"Had him in all the classes Gryffindor had with Slytherin, so I know him to see him. I think he hung around Malfoy, but I don't remember him much. Harry looked grim. "I remember his father pretty well, though. Jacob Nott is one of the oldest and most elite Death Eaters, currently serving a life sentence without parole in Azkaban."

"Theo is quite different from his father," Luna assured him. "He successfully resisted becoming a Death Eater, even though Jacob groomed him for it from the time he was born. Theo has a strong and logical mind. He's not easily influenced by anyone or anything, and he resents anyone who tries. He's very gentle as well, and quiet. You'd almost think he's a Ravenclaw – until you play chess with the sneaky bastard." Her silver laugh bounced around the rafters of the attic, making Harry smile.

"He sounds a bit like Ron."

"He is something like Ronald, although Theo's not as hot-tempered. He's less likely to yell and more likely to go all quiet and cold when he's mad. I've only seen it once or twice, but he reminds me of Professor Snape then, actually. I know he and Daphne have had some pretty good rows, but she can handle him." Luna shrugged. "I'm surprised she thought proposing would work, but somehow I doubt she was thinking very clearly. She has trouble thinking clearly around Theo; he just mesmerizes her. He loves her too – I know he does. I have a feeling he just needs to miss her a little, to realize how much he needs her."

"Here's hoping it won't take him four years to figure it out." Harry picked up Luna's left hand across the table and kissed it, making her smile dreamily at him. Her silver-blue eyes were hauntingly beautiful in the semi-darkness, drawing him in and drowning him in their depths. "I love you."

"I love you, too." She smiled back at him, albeit a little sadly. "I'm sorry to see Daphne in pain. I hope it's over soon. She's my best friend, after you."

A familiar warm feeling crept over Harry from his toes to his scalp. He kissed the back of his fiancee's hand again. "I love you."

"You keep saying that."

"Every time I think it, I say it," Harry laughed. "Ron's right, we are revolting."

"Perfectly disgusting," Luna agreed cheerfully. "Vile, even."

The evening reminded Harry very much of their first date at their favourite restaurant. They laughed and chatted well into the night, as this time there was no waiter to interrupt their privacy, nor a closing time to be mindful of. When Luna stretched her arms over her head and yawned, he realized that it must be nearly bedtime. He pushed back his chair and cast a stasis charm over the remnants of their dinner – it could all be cleaned up tomorrow, he reasoned. Coming around to offer a hand to Luna, he mentioned, "I hope you're not too tired."

"Too tired for what?" She eyed him speculatively as she took his hand, a suggestive grin curling the corners of her mouth.

"You'll see," he promised.

They made love slowly that evening, basking in each other and taking the time to relish the experience; hands and lips and skin melted together into a puddle of desire and pleasure in the bed. Harry brought her to her peak more than once, cradling her while she cried out in his arms and savouring her delightful responsiveness. She drank in his touch with an innocent greed that was almost his undoing each time she shuddered and called his name. Finally, he could bear no more, and found his own release while she held him and caressed him.

"Everybody..." Harry gasped, flopping back against his pillow, "should...have sex like that...at least..._once_...in their life."

Luna brushed one sweaty lock of hair out of her eyes and smiled, rolling onto her belly. "Oh...yes. Hopefully...more than once," she panted in agreement. "Lucky us. We...get to do it...forever."

Harry beamed at her and reached one hand over to squeeze her bottom lasciviously. "Have I told you today that I love your bum?" he asked when he had caught his breath.

"They say a full moon has a beauty all its own," she quipped.

XoXoXoXoXoX

While Harry and Luna were getting lost in each other, Astoria and Daphne Greengrass were applying their makeup in Astoria's bathroom, getting ready to go out. Daphne found the two of them cut an amusing figure standing side-by-side in the mirror. Although they were sisters, they were somewhat dissimilar in physical appearance. Daphne was 5'7", golden-skinned and fair-haired, with a generously curvaceous build. She wanted to lose a bit of weight, but there was this little thing called food that she loved so much, and this thing called exercise that just had no appeal. Still, she wasn't fat – not yet, anyway. She sucked in her gut slightly as she eyed her younger sister.

Astoria was an inch taller than Daphne, with a lean, muscled physique acquired through years of long-distance running. She'd worn her hair long since childhood, but when her arranged marriage to Draco Malfoy had been called off, Astoria had seized the chance to dispense with tradition and cut her dark brown hair pixie-short. The cropped hair called attention to her eyes, the same eyes as Daphne: huge, long-lashed, and rich, honeyed brown. Their pointed noses were the same, too, but Astoria was porcelain-skinned, while Daphne was sun-kissed and freckled.

"You know, you'd think that with the amount of time you spend running outdoors, _you'd_ be the one with freckles," Daphne complained as she applied her lip gloss. She'd poured herself into a black dress that maximized her curves' effect, and was wearing peacock feather earrings she'd borrowed from her sister. They weren't her usual style at all, but her younger sibling was given to be much wilder than Daphne ordinarily allowed herself to be.

"Vampires don't freckle," Astoria replied sarcastically, baring her teeth in the mirror. "Don't complain. Freckles are cute. At least you've got boobs."

"Yeah, and a gut that's like a third boob, except with an inverted nipple. You know, for the belly button."

Astoria snorted. "Wait, what the fuck are we talking about, again?"

"I don't even know anymore." Daphne dropped the lip gloss into her bag and reached for the glass of red wine she'd left on the countertop. "Okay, I'm already kind of drunk."

"Yeah, no shit. I can Side-Along you, if you want."

Daphne giggled, remembering how much she'd missed spending time with her younger, wilder, much more vulgar sister. Astoria tended to help Daphne break out of her "Pureblood emotional constipation", as she so charmingly phrased it. "I'm not _that_ drunk."

"Better not be, you're my winger tonight." Astoria adjusted her low-cut purple top and black miniskirt. "All right, I'm ready."

They'd chosen a popular Wizarding nightclub in Diagon Alley, one of several that had popped up in the wake of Voldemort's defeat. By the time they Apparated to the door, the club was already hopping, with a packed dance floor. They pressed their way through the crowd to the mile-deep queue at the bar, making drinks their first priority.

While they were waiting, Daphne felt a hand on her elbow. She turned, with her best withering stare in place for the forward prick who had dared touch her, but she relaxed when she saw who it was. "Oh! Hey, Ron. Didn't think this was your sort of place," she yelled over the pounding music.

"It's not," he yelled back. "I'm just out for a drink with my brother and his friend. This is their favourite place." He pointed at a circular booth where a tall, redheaded man and a shorter, mahogany-skinned man with long dreadlocks were sitting.

"This is my sister, Astoria." Daphne introduced her sibling when she turned around from the bar with a Firewhiskey in each hand.

"Hey, I'm Ron Weasley."

"I know who you are," Astoria sneered, handing Daphne her drink. She was in full-on ice princess mode, as she so often was with male strangers at the bar – a favourite game that she played very well.

"Wow, you girls don't mess around. Out to drown your sorrows?" Ron gestured at the hard liquor in Daphne's glass with a good-natured look of disbelief of his face.

"In a word, yes." Daphne sipped at her glass. _He's trying hard_, she thought. _Nice of him to care._

"Are you going to ask us to join you, or are you just going to stand around and point out the obvious?" Astoria put in, fixing Ron with a raised eyebrow and a look of mild boredom.

Ron spluttered. "Yeah. Erm. Sure, I mean, I guess. If you want." He turned on his heel and marched back to the table. George and Lee caught sight of his facial expression – the one he frequently wore when Hermione had PMS – and started to laugh.

"Well, well, ickle Ronnikins, what tender morsels have you brought for us today?" George rubbed his hands together and cackled.

"This is my arsehole brother, George Weasley, and his friend, Lee Jordan." Ron jerked a thumb at them irritably.

"Daphne Greengrass." The elegant blonde squeezed into the booth next to Lee.

"Oh, you're Luna's friend! She's told me about you," George said. "You work together, right?"

"That's right. This is my sister, Astoria." She indicated the dark pixie who had taken a seat next to George, noticing a flicker in his hazel-brown eyes as he surveyed the younger woman with ill-disguised appreciation.

"_Hello_, Astoria." He captured her hand and kissed the back of it, winking audaciously. "George Weasley."

"Egads, you lot do love to point out the obvious," she snarked, snatching her hand back from him and downing her whiskey in one go.

George's eyes widened in surprise and he chuckled. "Ooh. Kitten has claws."

"I like to sharpen them on men, so watch your step," she retorted.

He threw back his red head and laughed, as did his dark-skinned friend. "Lee, you'd best find your own way home tonight. I'm entranced."

"Careful, George." Daphne shook her head at him. "She'll leave you crying in the corner."

"I'm already scared," Lee agreed.

"Speaking of crying, are you okay?" Ron asked Daphne in an undertone. "You looked rough at lunch."

"I was, but now I'm drunk," Daphne replied loudly. "Let's not talk about _him_, shall we?"

"Uh oh, there's a '_him'_," Lee groaned. "That sounds complicated."

"Oh, it is," she assured him. "I'm far too drunk to get into it, don't worry."

Ron excused himself shortly thereafter to go home to his wife, looking relieved to escape from the loud music and questionable company. As the night wore on, the remaining quartet ordered round after round of drinks, switching from Firewhiskey to shooters with hyper-sexual names, talking about their adventures at Hogwarts and laughing loudly. By 1:30, Daphne had to rest her forehead against the table momentarily to stop the room spinning.

George nudged Astoria, who was downing a shooter. "I think you might need to look after your sister, there."

Muttering under her breath, she withdrew her wand from her handbag and cast a Sobering Charm over Daphne, who seemed to perk up slightly. "Bloody do-gooder Gryffindors."

"You know, a man could fall in love with a bitch like you." George winked and leered at her.

"If it's unrequited, it's stalking, not love," Astoria riposted, rolling her eyes. Much to George's surprise, one long-fingered, slim hand moved under the table and came to rest on his knee. He looked around at her in shock as she began inching up his leg with her left hand, pounding back another shot with her right.

"Y-you...you..." She dug her nails into George's thigh as hard as she could, which made him jump and gasp. "Ow!"

"I warned you," she murmured, smiling blandly. George just goggled at her, hoping that she wouldn't realize he was nursing a stiffy. He'd never met a woman who left him speechless before.

Lee missed this little exchange, as he was peering under Daphne's hair to check if she was still breathing. Her eyes were closed, and her golden skin had taken on a greenish cast. "Astoria, if you don't get your sister out of here, she's going to puke on my shoes."

"Yeah, it's probably better if I let her puke on _my_ shoes. Come on, drunky, we're going home." She slid out of the booth and came around to Daphne's side, wrapping an arm around her sister's shoulders and levering the drunken witch to her feet. "Thanks for the drinks, chaps."

"Our pleasure, kitten," George chuckled. "I think." Astoria threw him an unreadable glance before nodding to Lee and dragging Daphne out of the bar. She had to Side-Along Apparate her intoxicated sister home; she had the presence of mind to land them both in the bathroom, where she sat Daphne on the floor, pulled her hair back into a messy ponytail, and removed her shoes and earrings.

"Astoria?"

"Yes?"

"I'm going to throw up."

"You've come to the right place."

XoXoXoXoXoX

It was a long, uncomfortable night for Daphne Greengrass. To Astoria's credit, she sat by her sister on the floor of the bathroom for the duration, rubbing Daphne's back while she puked her guts out and dabbing at her face with a cold cloth between heaves.

When her stomach was finally empty, Daphne crawled from the bathroom to Astoria's bed. The two sisters crawled under the covers together, with a dustbin next to Daphne's side of the bed in case of a recurrence of nausea. "Are you going to survive?" Astoria groaned, yawning.

"I miss Theo," Daphne whined.

"Oh, shut up and go to sleep." The words were harsh, but the tone was gentle.

"I think George likes you."

Astoria snorted, but did not reply. Within a few moments, a soft snore drifted over to her from her sister's huddled shape under the covers.

**A/N: Next update as soon as time allows... **


	10. The Crawl

**A/N: Lots and lots of Daphne, a little bit more of Astoria, and we meet Theo for the first time. Oh, and we get a sneak peek into the consciousness of one George Weasley. George's mind strikes me as the sort of place that's decorated with shag carpet and lava lamps – much like my own. He's got an uninvited guest at the moment... **

**Chapter 10 – The Crawl (Or, Guess Who's At The Door?) **

Luna and Harry were in the middle of a full English fry-up when a spectral bluebird soared through the kitchen window, landing in the centre of the table. "Luna. I need one of your fantastic potions. I think I may be dying," the Patronus groaned in Daphne's voice.

"Ooh, I was afraid of that," Luna sighed. "I wonder how bad she really is."

"Are you going over to Astoria's, then?" Harry finished his tea and smiled at his helpful fiancée.

"In a little while." She rose, still naked from the evening before, and stretched before swiping her wand from the table. She cast a quick _Expecto Patronum_, sending her Thestral the way the bluebird had come.

"What did you say?"

"I told her I'd be there in an hour or so." Luna smiled and sat back down. "I'm not done eating. I'm almost out of my potions stock, too. I'll have to have another Big Brew Weekend soon."

"Big Brew Weekend?" Harry repeated blankly. "That sounds like some sort of beer festival."

"You wish," she chuckled. "No, a Big Brew Weekend happens when I go out on Friday night after work, buy a bunch of fresh ingredients, and brew myself a stock of basic potions all weekend long. Daphne and Astoria came over once to brew with me. Astoria is almost unnaturally good at brewing, but she's too lazy to do it herself."

"So are you," he reminded her. "Good at brewing, I mean, not lazy. Your modified Pepper-Up is amazing."

"That's true," Luna conceded with a grin. "As a matter of fact, I think that's what's needed in this case. I have a Sobering Potion recipe, too. I think I'm going to start making that one more regularly."

"At least until Daphne and Theo get back together," Harry laughed.

"Yes, I wonder what's going on with Theo. He probably needs a potion, too."

XoXoXoXoXoX

When Daphne woke up for the second time that morning, her sister had already left the bed and started the shower. She lifted her rumpled blonde head and groaned; the light seeping into the bedroom through the cracks in the curtains was blinding her, creating a meaty pounding in her head. "When is Luna going to get here?" she whined to herself.

As if in answer to her question, a sharp knock sounded from the front door. Daphne was still clothed from the previous evening, but her makeup was smeared in dark smudges under her eyes, and the rest of her was a smelly mess. _Oh well, it's just Luna,_ she thought. When she got to the door, though, she realized she still wasn't thinking clearly; she had been completely wrong about the identity of the caller. She opened the door of Astoria's Wizarding London townhouse to reveal Theo, slouching in the late morning sunlight with a hangdog expression.

"You _are_ here." His deep voice was cracked and hoarse. He licked his lips. "I was hoping you would be. I went home. I – I couldn't find you."

"Join the club," Daphne growled. She started to close the door again, but Theo stuck his foot in the jamb to stop her.

"Daph, we need to talk. Please?" he begged. "Can I come in?"

"No." She slammed the door against the misplaced foot, eliciting a startled, pained yelp from its owner. Theo jerked backward involuntarily, allowing Daphne to close the door. "There's nothing left to say," she yelled through it.

"Daphne!" Theo started knocking again desperately. _"Daphne!"_ He kept hammering the door, only stopping when a tiny, delicate hand came to rest on his elbow. He turned to see Luna standing there with her square purple handbag clutched in her other hand, staring up at him sympathetically. "Luna. What are you doing here?"

"I'm here for Daphne," she explained simply. "Please let me by, Theo."

"You've got to do something," begged the tall, skinny man. He buried his fists in his curly brown hair, his crystal-blue eyes full of pain. "I don't know how I'm going to fix this."

"I don't know either, Theo. Please let me by," Luna repeated softly. "Daphne will come to you when she's ready to talk, I think, but for now, you should probably go."

"Luna, please tell me it's not that bad." He actually looked as if he might cry. On closer inspection, Theo did not look as though he had slept at all – his eyes were dark-rimmed and glassy, and stubble dusted his cheeks and chin.

She gave him a rueful half-smile. "It's bad, Theo. If you want to make it right, you're going to have to do better than this." She drew her wand. "Now, are you going to leave, or do I need to call my fiancé? He's an Auror, you know."

"Your fiancé?" Theo repeated. "That'll be Potter, I suppose." He snatched the hand that was holding her purse, hauling her ring up to his eyes. "Oh, erm, congratulations," he added as an obvious afterthought.

"Thanks." She tilted her head to the side, taking her hand back and regarding him with an inscrutable gaze. "Theo?"

"Yeah?"

"Please get out of my way," she chimed pleasantly. He finally complied, turning and walking away without another word. Luna turned to the door and knocked gently, knowing her friend would still be on the other side, listening and waiting. "Daphne? It's me."

The door clicked open to reveal a forlorn, dishevelled Daphne. Luna stepped through the door and immediately put her purse on the floor, drawing her red-eyed friend into a warm, brief hug.

"Oh, Luna," Daphne choked. "I'm so glad you're here." She scooped up Luna's left hand, admiring the engagement ring that sparkled there. "He did well, didn't he?" she said with a wobbly smile.

"He did. Thank you for your help. According to Harry, you were instrumental to his success."

"It was my pleasure – and the source of one very bad idea, I'll admit." Daphne grimaced. "But don't let my failed proposal cast a pall over Harry's successful one. Tell me all about it?"

"And me," Astoria remarked from the staircase. She was clad only in a fluffy pink bathrobe, and was towelling her short, dark hair vigorously. "Hey, Luna. Congratulations."

"Hey! Thank you," Luna sang. "It was unexpected, but I'm..." she trailed off and beamed at them. "I'm getting married!"

Rolling her eyes, Astoria came all the way into the front hall and stooped to hug her ethereal blonde friend. "Want some tea?"

"First things first." Luna retrieved her purse and pulled out two phials – one of Special Pepper-Up, and one of Headache Draught. "Daphne, I believe you called for these?"

"And a shower, too, Daph," Astoria agreed. "You smell like something crawled up you and died."

XoXoXoXoXoX

"Oh, my gods. You did _what_ to his leg?" Daphne gaped at her sister across the kitchen table, making both Astoria and Luna dissolve into giggles.

"He's probably still got the marks," Astoria chuckled triumphantly. "Oh, it's fun to make them squirm."

"George is a nice guy, though," Luna protested. "He's got a big mouth, but it's all for show. He's actually very sweet."

"Ooh, I do like them tender and juicy," the dark pixie remarked sarcastically, taking a long sip from her mug of tea.

Daphne snickered. "Oh, Merlin. Here we go."

"What?" Astoria shrugged, attempting to look innocent. "Can't a girl have a bit of fun?"

"Yes, but you oughtn't to draw blood, Astoria," Luna mock-scolded.

"Yeah, that's true. I guess I should ease up. I mean, look at the bloke. He's got to be iron-deficient already, with a complexion like that."

"Oho, but saying you'll ease up implies that you'll do it again," Daphne remarked.

"Well, if I run into him again, that is. It's not like I'll go looking for him."

"You wouldn't have to look far. He owns Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes," Luna pointed out.

"And I would go into that shop _why_?" Astoria looked annoyed. "Give me a break, I'm not that desperate. It was just a bit of fun."

"All right, no need to get testy," Daphne said, holding up her palms in a placating gesture. "You had chemistry together, though. I'm just saying."

"You know, we could be talking about more interesting things. Luna's wedding, for example," Astoria deflected.

"That's true," Daphne agreed. "So, what were you thinking, Luna? Small and intimate, knowing you."

"Something like that," Luna agreed. "We talked about it a little bit last night, but we haven't made any decisions yet. Maybe we'll just elope," she teased.

"No, don't," Daphne whined. "Luna, you deserve better than that. Come on."

"You just want to go to a wedding," Astoria chided her sister.

"I _like_ weddings." Daphne brushed a lock of fresh-washed hair out of her eye, adjusting her borrowed bathrobe slightly.

"You know, neither of us has parents left," Luna pointed out, a little sadly. "Who's going to give me away?"

"Martin, maybe? I'm sure he'd be honoured."

"Or George," Astoria suggested. "Didn't you say he's been your friend for a long time? I'm sure he'd do it." Luna and Daphne shot her a knowing look. _"What?" _

"Nothing," the two blondes sang at once, giggling.

"Fuck off, both of you," Astoria fired back, glaring at them in turn. "What about guests?"

"Well, I've got friends in Canada who might come," Luna counted, "and Penny, of course, and I'll invite Martin, even if I don't ask him to give me away. Everyone else would be from Harry's side."

"What about us?" Daphne pouted.

"The wedding party doesn't count as guests," Luna said.

Daphne squealed. "Are you serious?"

"I was hoping you'd be my maid of honour, Daphne," Luna confirmed. "And Astoria, I was hoping you'd be my bridesmaid."

"Eeeee!" Daphne began bouncing in her seat. "Of course I will!"

"Astoria?" Luna turned to her dark-haired younger friend to find her staring back with a dumbfounded look of shock in her soft brown eyes.

"Me? I thought you'd want Penny."

"She's my friend, but you and I are closer." The diamond on Luna's finger winked as she tucked her hair behind her ear. "We're only having two on each side for the wedding party, and I thought of you and Daphne right away."

"Wait a minute." Astoria's eyes narrowed. "I would imagine Harry's having Ron as his best man, so who else..." Luna collapsed in a fit of giggles, giving her friend all the answer she needed. "You bitch."

"No way." Daphne gaped at Luna. "He's having George as his groomsman?"

"Yes."

"Shut up."

"I'm serious. Well, Harry hasn't asked him yet, but I'm sure George will say yes."

"That's too perfect."

"You two are killing me, here," Astoria groaned.

"Well, to be fair, I told you _before_ you said yes," Luna pointed out. "If you're saying yes, that is."

"I can't very well say no, now can I?" Astoria propped her ankles on an empty chair and rolled her dark eyes. "This ought to be a good time."

"Well, as your maid of honour, I hereby declare that the first order of business is your gown," Daphne intoned. "I'm going to owl Madam Malkin's and Twilfitt's to make appointments for next Saturday."

"We haven't even picked a date yet, Daphne," Luna laughed.

"Yes, but if I have to wait any longer to go gown shopping with you, I'll explode."

"Aloysius!" Astoria hollered. Within a few moments, a huge screech owl with glossy feathers glided into the kitchen from his perch in the living room. "Hi, baby." She stroked his feathers, making the owl blink his sharp yellow eyes in obvious pleasure. "Will you do me a favour today, sweetie?"

"Merlin, Astoria." Daphne rolled her eyes. "You treat that thing like it's a man."

"Certainly not." Astoria rose and went to the sideboard, where she scribbled out a quick note and enclosed it in an envelope with a few Galleons. "I'd be making him cry if he were a man. It's not my fault you don't understand the relationship between a witch and her familiar. By the way, don't call him 'that thing'; he'll scratch open your jugular."

"Aw, he's just like his mummy," Luna commented. She held out a tentative hand to the owl; he stretched his neck and butted his head into her palm like a cat, pausing to nibble at the sleeve of her baby-blue jumper. "Who's a pretty boy, then?"

Astoria handed the envelope to Aloysius and sent him soaring off through the window. "He'll be back with some bridal magazines. I can't have my sister exploding in a shower of estrogen and hand-flapping before the week is out."

"I'm telling you, that owl is pussy-whipped," Daphne laughed, shaking her head. "Six months from now, George Weasley will be, too."

"You can't threaten me," Astoria riposted.

XoXoXoXoXoX

"I dunno what I'm gonna do, Blaise," Theo whined. He was sitting on one large sofa in Zabini's man-cave of a living room – the lounging space of a confirmed bachelor. Quidditch posters and framed memorabilia decorated the walls that weren't covered by tall, crammed bookcases and mullioned windows. "She won't even talk to me."

Blaise sat on the other sofa, warming a mug of tea between his palms. He was quiet and impassive as always, even while Theo was buzzing with pain and nervous tension. "Yesterday, you were quite sure that it was over between you. What happened?"

"That was just me being angry, man, you know that."

Blaise sipped at his mug, regarding his skinny friend with an appraising eye. "I don't know why you've come to me for advice. If you haven't noticed, I'm not exactly the king of healthy relationships."

"You get plenty of pussy."

"Pussy is pussy. The girl attached to it is something else altogether."

Theo sighed. "Something else is right." He shook his curly head tiredly. "She knows bloody well why I don't want to get married, and it seems like a damn good reason to me. Besides, I don't see why she needs the name and the ring and all that nonsense. It's just more Pureblood crap, isn't it?"

"I'm telling you, you're asking the wrong man. I had shitty role models growing up. I had seven different stepdads, remember? As far as I'm concerned, marriage is for suckers."

"Thanks for that, Blaise."

"My pleasure," the ebony-skinned man chuckled. "I'm serious, though. If you two aren't headed in the same direction, you might as well call it quits now. No point in stringing her along if she wants something you're not willing to give. Just don't expect her to wait around for you."

"I don't know what I'm going to do without her, though," Theo said.

"The same thing you did before her."

"I forget what that was."

"You'll figure it out, Theo." Blaise sighed, half-annoyed, half-sorry for his friend's state of mind. "You really don't know what you want, do you?"

"I want things to just be the way they used to be, when Daphne was happy to be with me, and didn't care what we called it." Theo reached for his own mug of tea, though it had now gone cold. "The only thing is..."

Blaise raised an eyebrow. "The only thing is what?"

"You should have seen Luna today," Theo said. "Potter asked her to marry him. She looked so –"

"Happy?"

"Yeah." Theo looked wistful. "I'd kind of like to make Daphne that happy."

Blaise harrumphed. "Listen, mate. You had a choice in front of you – marry Daphne, or live without her – and you made your choice without even having to think about it, so it's likely the right one."

"Then why do I feel so horrible?" Theo moaned, putting his mug back on the coffee table and burying his face in his hands.

"Because you spent six years with her, that's why. It's not like you didn't love her."

"I still love her, present tense. I don't know how to live without her."

"You'll adapt." Blaise's almond-shaped eyes were inscrutable as he surveyed his friend over the rim of his mug. "You can't take it back now, so try living with it before you decide you were wrong."

"You're not exactly making me feel better, you know." Ice-blue eyes flashed between Theo's fingers.

"You're not going to feel better for awhile," Blaise advised, chuckling again. "Get used to it."

XoXoXoXoXoX

"Hey, babe," Harry greeted Luna sleepily when she returned from Astoria's house. She had Apparated straight to the living room, accidentally waking him from his nap on the sofa.

"Hi!" She kissed him sweetly, clambering up to straddle him. "Sorry I woke you."

"I don't mind." He grinned, bucking his hips slightly. "You're a nice way to wake up. How's Daphne?"

"Theo showed up," Luna informed him. "He was there, pounding on Astoria's door when I arrived."

"Oh, shit." Harry's green eyes widened.

"It could have been worse. Daphne told him to leave and slammed his foot in the door, but there wasn't too much more in the way of drama."

"Still think they're not done?" It was an oddly-phrased question, but Harry knew Luna would understand what he meant.

"I'm not so sure anymore." She smiled down at him and ran her fingers through his unruly, glossy black locks. "It's only two in the afternoon; what to do with the rest of the day?"

"I have an idea," Harry replied immediately. "It's just warm enough for a swim, don't you think?"

XoXoXoXoXoX

George was rather glad he didn't have a roommate – he was certain that he'd been moaning in his sleep. He woke up in the early afternoon with the covers twisted around his torso, sweating and trying to memorize the images from his dreams before they evaporated. He disentangled himself from the sheet and checked his leg. Sure enough, five little purple crescents were emblazoned into the flesh of his right thigh.

He got through the rest of the day with some difficulty. He was hung over, for one thing, but he was also plagued by thoughts of the saucy pixie who had left her mark on him. By the time Sunday rolled around, when Harry's messy black-haired head popped up in his fireplace, George was grateful for the distraction.

"Heeeeeyy, it's Harry Potter!"

"Hey, George. Mind if I come through for a sec? I just have a quick question for you."

"Be my guest. You're in luck – I'm wearing trousers and everything."

Harry snickered and stepped fully through the emerald flames, dusting soot off his shoulders as he emerged onto George's hearth. "Thanks for hiding your shame."

"I don't know what you've heard, but it's not true."

"As entertaining as it is discussing your pecker, I'm here on important business," Harry laughed. "I asked Luna to marry me, and she said yes. I was wondering if you would stand up for us at our wedding. Ron's going to be my best man, I've already asked him." Seeing George's mouth start to open, he quickly added, "He was forewarned about the proposal."

"Ah, so the arsehole commentary was kept to a minimum." George grinned broadly and clapped Harry on the shoulder. "Congratulations, mate. Well-spotted."

"I thought so," Harry agreed. "Will you do it?"

"It would be my honour, sir." George sketched a silly little bow. "So, who are the ladies Luna has chosen for her bridesmaids?"

"Daphne Greengrass is maid of honour, and her sister Astoria will be a bridesmaid," Harry replied.

A frisson of delight ran up George's spine.

XoXoXoXoXoX

Luna and Daphne arrived at work at almost the same time on Monday morning. "Hey," Daphne greeted her friend as they walked to their offices together.

"Hey! How did the rest of your weekend go?"

"It was all right." Daphne shrugged. "I spent the whole time at Astoria's. I know I'm going to have to go back to the flat eventually, but...I don't even know if Theo's going to keep living there, or if I'm keeping it, or what. I haven't talked to him since he showed up at the door on Saturday."

"You're probably going to _have_ to talk to him," Luna pointed out. "Not to discuss your relationship, but to work out the logistics of splitting up – if that's what you're doing. Decide who keeps what, and all that."

Daphne sighed sadly. "Yeah, I guess I can't leave it any longer." She followed Luna into her office, taking a seat in her favourite of the oft-used visitors' chairs.

"On the bright side, Harry and I picked a date," Luna chirped, taking her place behind her desk. "How does New Year's Eve sound to you?"

"Well, he'll never forget your anniversary," Daphne laughed. "You don't want to wait for next summer, though?"

"Nah." Luna made a flippant gesture. "We're going to take our honeymoon next summer, though; he wants to go to Canada. But we're having the wedding over the Christmas holiday because" – Luna looked overexcited – "we're having it at Hogwarts, and we wanted all of the professors to be there!"

"Shut up!" Daphne squealed. "How'd you wrangle that?"

"McGonagall would do anything for Harry. He owled her on Sunday to ask her if it would be all right, and she was _so_ excited, Daphne. We'll have the ceremony and reception in the Great Hall, and Harry and I will spend our first night together as husband and wife in the Room of Requirement." Luna grinned at the thought. "We thought having it at Hogwarts might help to keep things private, too. It'll be a circus otherwise, just because it's Harry. I'm sure Rita Skeeter and her ilk will attempt to gate-crash, regardless."

"Oh, likely," Daphne agreed. "What a fantastic idea, though!"

"Harry's idea," Luna remarked. "He's such a romantic. It's the place we first met, so..."

"Aw. Classic Gryffindor, you know. They tend to be romantic."

"I know." Luna blushed. "Well, it sure works for me."

"Maybe I should try one. A Gryffindor, I mean." Daphne slumped in her chair. "I've been thinking."

Luna tilted her head to the side, inviting her best friend to continue with her silver-blue eyes. "And?" she encouraged.

"I was thinking about something I told Harry when we went ring shopping," Daphne began slowly. "I was ranting about Theo, and I told him that I don't want to marry somebody I had to talk into it. I've been turning that over in my mind, and then I realized that it wasn't such a bad idea to propose after all. I mean, I'm not wondering anymore. Now I know that Theo really doesn't want to marry me, and that's why he hasn't asked; he's not holding out because he's worried I'll say no, or he's too chicken, or anything. He's made a conscious decision that he doesn't want to be with me forever. Even if he changed his mind, and came back to me now wanting to get married, I don't think I'd say yes, because I'd always have to wonder..." she trailed off, at a loss for the words to explain her thoughts and emotions.

"You'd always wonder – was it because he really changed his mind? Or was it just because he didn't want to be alone and had to do it to keep you?" Luna supplied.

Daphne nodded. "I'm really angry with him. I kept thinking, Merlin, he _owes_ me for everything I've given him, but then I realize that I'm keeping score. When did I start keeping score?" She sighed miserably. "I'm not really _that_ girl, am I?"

"Oh, Daphne." Luna sighed and came around the desk to hug her friend. Daphne looked more like her usual polished self that day – her fingernails had even been re-grown with a spell – but there were dark circles beneath her eyes, and she looked haunted and hollow-cheeked. "It sounds like you've made a decision."

"I have," the taller witch said quietly. "It just hurts like hell."

"Growing pains," Luna consoled.

Daphne barked a short, humourless laugh. "Yeah, I guess." She rose to leave. "Back to work, I suppose. I'll come and get you at lunch."

XoXoXoXoXoX

Daphne was not amused to find a bouquet of orange roses – her favourites – waiting for her in her office. "Nice try, Theo," she muttered, frowning at the cheerful flowers. The soft yellow at the base of the petals deepened to sunset orange at the tips, and each blossom was just beginning to open; they were too beautiful to waste, so she decided not to Vanish them out of spite, leaving them on the corner of the desk to scent the room instead. There was a card sticking out from between two thorny stems, made of plain, heavy, cream-coloured stock.

_For Daphne, from your secret admirer._

She rolled her eyes and snorted. _Not the most inventive thing I've ever seen, Theo. Okay, let's be honest here, this is clichéd as fuck. _It was exactly the kind of thing he would do, unimaginative and too little, too late, but executed with high class nonetheless. One thing was strange, though; Theo had horrible handwriting, all loopy and awkward, but the script on the card was even, neat, and oddly backward-slanted. The florist's hand, most likely. Daphne dismissed the card as irrelevant; if the roses were from Theo, they weren't going to change her mind. If they weren't from him, she had a fun little mystery on her hands. _Flowers are a nice mystery to have, I suppose. _She tapped the card against her lips thoughtfully.

XoXoXoXoXoX

"He sent you flowers?" Penny tucked a lock of hair behind her ear thoughtfully. The three Unspeakables were sitting around their usual table at lunch, discussing the weekend and Luna's wedding plans. The boys did not join them that day, as they had both been called into an urgent meeting that would take up the rest of the afternoon. "Well, that's a good thing, isn't it?"

Daphne shrugged. "Like I said, the card wasn't signed. I don't know for sure if they're from Theo, but even if they are, he's not going to change my mind."

"Daphne, I don't think you should make this decision so quickly," Penny warned her. "I'm saying this as a friend. You and Theo have a lot of history. You got through some of the worst atrocities that Wizardkind has ever seen together. Are you sure you want to throw that away?"

"They may have gotten through it together, Penny, but that doesn't mean they came out the other side healthy and whole," Luna pointed out.

"I'm just saying, I think the foundation's there," the curly-haired witch explained. Her bright blue eyes begged them to understand, to reconsider. "Things might not be great right now, but you've got the proper basis for a good relationship, Daphne, if you're willing to work on it."

"I'm not the only one who has to be willing, though," Daphne said. "And we've all seen how willing Theo is."

"I still think you should give it time," Penny advised. "I think he'll come around."

"Too little, too late," Daphne groused. It was becoming her mantra where Theo was concerned. "Anyway, I'm done talking about Theo for the rest of the day. I'm probably going to see him tonight when I go back to the flat."

"Fair enough, we can talk about wedding plans," Luna sang, pulling a magazine out of her handbag. "I found a dress I want to try..."

XoXoXoXoXoX

"George, have we got any more of the anniversary edition Skiving Snackboxes in the back?" The store wasn't busy, but Verity still had to raise her voice over the hum of customers. The redheaded man did not turn or acknowledge that she had spoken at all, much to her annoyance. "George?"

"Huh?" He jumped slightly when she touched his arm. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"

"I asked if we have any more of the anniversary Snackboxes in the back," Verity repeated. She frowned up at her boss. "Are you all right?"

"Oh, yeah. I, erm, injured my leg over the weekend. Hurts a wee bit," he explained lamely.

Verity leered. "Hurt your leg, have you? Maybe you should let me have a look."

"No!" George took an involuntary step back. "No, that's okay. Erm, the Snackboxes are on the third shelf in the second aisle of the stockroom," he told her, smiling uncomfortably. She looked slightly put out as she flounced past him, but he didn't really care. He'd kept her hands off him – that was the important part. Their relationship was clandestine, but George was still too much of a gentleman to let Verity find another woman's marks on his body – no matter how (relatively) innocently they had gotten there.

The bigger problem, he thought, was not the purple half-moons in his flesh, but the mark that Astoria had made in his mind. Hot damn, he could not remember ever seeing a girl like that: tall, lean, and fit, with short-cropped hair that showed off her porcelain skin and expressive brown eyes. The best part about her was the razor-sharp wit, though, and the tongue that came along with it. He kept hearing her voice in his mind – very much like her sister's, deep and rich for a woman, but with overtones of silver – whispering wickedly just out of his hearing. Every now and again, he would catch sight of her out of the corner of his eye, but when he turned his head, naturally, she wasn't there. It was as though she had injected some sort of feminine venom into his bloodstream through those sharp little fingernails, and now he was hallucinating. He knew he was guaranteed to see her again soon – the whole wedding party would have to meet with Harry and Luna to discuss wedding plans – but it wasn't soon enough. He was going to go mad in the interim.

XoXoXoXoXoX

"Babe, are you all right? You've hardly touched your food," Luna said. Harry glanced down at his plate, where a mostly-untouched slice of lasagne and Caesar salad lay unappetizingly in front of him.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just thinking about work," he replied honestly, rubbing the back of his neck tiredly. "Gawain's got a bee in his bonnet about this new report that was filed recently – we're going to be working some overtime, I'm afraid. Setting up surveillance, recon, that sort of thing."

"Sounds big."

"It could get that way, yeah." He looked apologetic. "I can't tell you much."

"It's part of the job, I know how that is," Luna assured him. "It's okay. I love you."

"I love you, too," Harry smiled. "I'm looking forward to the wedding."

"Me too!" Luna bounced a little in her seat, making her fiancé laugh. "We have to get everybody together to discuss things. How about Saturday?"

XoXoXoXoXoX

Daphne opened the door to the flat she had shared with Theo tentatively, as though she were expecting someone to jump out at her with a blood-curdling scream. "Hello?" she called softly.

A rustling noise from the kitchen told her that she was not alone. Sure enough, Theo appeared in the front hallway a moment later, looking gaunt and tired. "Daphne." He hung back edgily, not sure what to do or say.

"We need to talk, Theo." Her voice was gentle, but there was no mistaking her steely undertone. He knew it well – it was the voice she used whenever she told him something important, something he already should have known. He sighed inwardly.

"Yeah, I guess we do." He turned and walked into the living room, and Daphne followed silently. They sat down on opposite ends of the sofa, facing each other. His heart pounded painfully against his ribs. The two lovers regarded each other for a moment, neither one sure where an ending was supposed to begin.

"I got your roses," Daphne finally said. "Thank you."

"I didn't send you roses."

"Oh."

"Wait, who the fuck is sending you roses, Daphne?" Theo's words had turned icy.

"I don't know, but it doesn't matter, Theo. I didn't come here to talk about that, anyway."

"I want to know who's sending my girlfriend roses."

"I'm not your girlfriend anymore, Theo," she half-whispered. "It's over."

His crystal-blue eyes snapped to meet her warm brown gaze. "Daphne..."

"Theo, it's just over. It just is," she said, although the firmness in her voice wavered on the last word. "We're at an impasse. I want to get married, and you...you don't. I just don't see how we're supposed to move on from here." Her eyes filled with tears. "We can't move on from here, because I'm not ever going to be able to forget, Theo. You walked out on me, and I..." she paused, choking back tears. "I gave you everything, and it's never been enough. I don't have anything left to give, Theo. I'm done."

He buried his face in his hands, his elbows on his knees, and did not move or make a sound. Daphne watched his hunched back for a long while, collecting her thoughts.

"I love you," he muttered. "I don't get it, Daphne. _I love you. _ Why isn't that enough for you?"

"I know you don't get it, Theo," she sighed, her patience running thin. "That much is obvious. And I'm tired of trying to teach you."

"Teach me?" Theo glanced up from his palms, cold fire in his gaze. "_Teach me?_ Gods, could you be any more condescending?" he hissed.

"Could_ you_ be any more of a stereotype?" Daphne snarled, rocketing to her feet. She began pacing back and forth, arms crossed over her chest, eyes snapping. "Being Purebloods and getting married doesn't have to mean falling into the same shit as your father, Theo. Magical lineage and rabid idiocy are not mutually inclusive. Gods, do you _really_ think I would let a monster like that take any children we might have? Or that I would want to marry you, if I thought you were even the _tiniest bit_ like your dad?" She snorted derisively at the thought.

"Don't lecture me, Daphne!" he snapped. "Did it ever occur to you that all I want is to protect you?"

"Did it ever occur to _you_ that all I ever wanted was to be your family?" she yelled, her patience finally exhausted. "But that was when I thought you..."

"You thought I what?" Theo's voice was dangerously low now.

"I thought you were different. I thought _we_ were different. You tell me you love me, Theo, but I don't think you mean it. I've just always been there, and I think people kind of expected us to get together, you know? So we did. But now I think you're just with me because you don't want to be alone, and because I was the easy option, the obvious choice." A single tear streaked down her cheek; she swiped it away stubbornly. "Stupid me, I actually fell in love with you."

"That's not fair," Theo whispered. "How can you say that to me? _How?_"

Daphne steeled herself visibly and looked him square in the eye, her lower lip trembling. "Are you going to move out, or am I?"

A long pause followed. "I guess I will," Theo said, looking down at his hands. "This was your place anyway. I can always move back into Dad's old house." He glanced up, taking in her tear-stained cheeks and sad brown eyes. "I can't believe it's come to this."

"I never thought it would," she agreed, sniffling. "But here we are." Much to her surprise, Theo rose from the couch and crossed the room to her in a single step, gathering her into his arms and pressing his face into the curtain of her hair. It took a moment for her to realize that his shoulders were shaking – he was sobbing into her. Slowly, she linked her arms around him and hugged him back.

"But I love you," he whimpered. "I love you. Daphne, please don't leave me!"

She closed her eyes against the throbbing swell of tears. "Theo, we can't do this anymore. It's time to let go."

He made a piteous sound, the heart-cry of a wounded animal, and squeezed her tighter. "No..."

She could not stop the tears. They stood together in the middle of the living room, a living space they had once shared, and held each other up while they wept.

XoXoXoXoXoX

"Babe?" Luna lifted her head from Harry's shoulder in the semi-darkness. "Did you hear that?"

"Huh?" He surfaced from sleep fuzzily. "What?"

"I think someone's at the door."

"In the middle of the night?" Harry blinked and reached for his glasses on the bedside table. "What the hell?" He rolled out of bed and pulled on his discarded trousers, padding down the staircase to the front door in bare feet. Sure enough, just as he reached for the door handle, a loud knock sounded from the other side. "Hold on!" he yelled, swinging the door open. There stood Daphne, red-eyed, puffy-faced, and still sniffling; she launched herself through the doorway, nearly knocking the wind out of him with the force of her hug. Harry hugged her back, completely befuddled.

"Daphne, what's going on?" Luna's sweet voice chimed from the staircase. She came over to her lover and her friend and wrapped her arms around the both of them, hugging them to her. "Is it Theo?"

"Yeah," the tall blonde choked. "I – he's moving out. I just couldn't stay and watch ..." she broke off, sobbing. "He didn't send me the roses!"

"It's okay," Luna said. She and Harry exchanged a meaningful glance. "You can stay here tonight. Come on – I'll take you up to the guest room, okay? Come on." She took Daphne's hand in hers and led the still-sobbing witch up the stairs, leaving Harry standing shirtless in the front hallway, staring after them sadly. He reached up absently and wiped Daphne's tears off of his skin.

**A/N: I know, I know – lots of setup **_**and**_** ending on a sad note? What the fuck is up with that, Quirks? Never fear, dear reader; the fuck that is up with that shall become clear in the next instalment (and yes, good things are in store for Daphne). Chapter 11 is entitled "The Last Secret", and shall be posted as soon as time allows. In the meantime, leave me a review and let me know a) who you think sent the roses and b) what you think is going on in the Auror department. OooooooOOOoooooOoooo... **


	11. The Last Secret

**A/N: As promised, this is the chapter where Harry finally learns everything there is to know about Luna. There is plenty of levity ahead, but this chapter also touches on some very heavy – and important – subject matter. You folks know that much like Luna, I don't hesitate to look things that are sad or uncomfortable directly in the eye; I handled the writing of this chapter as delicately as I could, but it may still be triggering for some. If you are very sensitive or have trauma in your past, you may wish to skip Luna's trip to the attic – simply jump to the next section break when you get to that part.**

**Chapter 11 – The Last Secret (Or, Watch Me Go)**

The week passed in a fog of pain for Daphne. She could not bear to go back to the flat she had shared with Theo, so she spent her nights in Luna's guest bedroom, crying herself to sleep. In spite of her mental state, she went to work every day, if only to go through the motions so that she would not give up and shut down completely.

Harry was back on Auror duty, working with the information that Daphne had provided about Jacob Nott, so he was no longer spending his afternoons in the Department of Mysteries; seeing Daphne's need for a change of pace, Martin assigned her to work with Luna on the mystery object instead. Luna's constant presence, quiet and peaceful, was a balm to Daphne's wounds. They didn't do very much actual work; most of the time was spent talking. If Martin knew, he didn't care.

Friday night of that week was unusual, compared to Harry and Luna's normal routine. Luna had decided to have a Big Brew Weekend; after work, she and Daphne walked out into Diagon Alley instead of Apparating home with Harry, heading to Slug & Jigger's Apothecary to stock up on supplies.

"Ooh, good, they've got dragon's blood." Luna grabbed a small phial from a shelf, examining the sludgy red-black liquid within it critically.

"Okay, we need beetle eyes, newt livers, fluxweed, moonstone..." Daphne skimmed down the list in her hand with one manicured finger. She tore the list in half and handed the bottom portion to Luna. "Here. You get this half; I'll get the other half."

The two friends went their separate ways in the store, hunting for ingredients and filling their baskets with phials , boxes, and bags. Daphne reached for a bundle of fluxweed on a high shelf, but it would not quite meet her fingertips. She had just drawn her wand to Summon the bundle instead when a long, dark arm moved in from her peripheral vision and grabbed it, handing it to her.

"Daphne." Blaise's almond-shaped eyes surveyed her with an unreadable expression. "How are you?"

"Hello, Blaise." Daphne looked distinctly uncomfortable under his gaze – he was Theo's closest friend, after all, and his dark eyes seemed to penetrate her thin veneer of normalcy. "I'm...all right, I suppose. You?"

"I'm well."

"How's Theo?" She could not stop herself from asking.

"He's..." Blaise jammed his hands in his pockets, still pinning her to the spot with those all-seeing eyes. "He's a mess."

"Daphne, are you done with...oh. Hello, Blaise." Luna came to hover protectively at her best friend's side.

"Lovegood." Blaise acknowledged Luna with a barely-perceptible nod. "Congratulations on your engagement."

"Thank you," she replied, watching him carefully.

"If you'll excuse me, ladies." Blaise brushed past them and exited the shop without buying anything.

"Oooh, that was awkward," Luna breathed when he was gone.

"I think he followed me in here. He says Theo's a mess." The taller witch's voice shook slightly. She stared after Blaise, still clutching the bundle of fluxweed in her hand.

"I'm sure he is. So are you," Luna pointed out. She steered Daphne in the direction of the till. "Come on. Let's settle up. We can go see George!"

"I don't know if I'm really in the mood," Daphne demurred. "Besides, we'll see him tomorrow."

"Trust me, you're in the perfect kind of mood for a visit to George's place," her serene friend assured her.

XoXoXoXoXoX

"Heeeeeeeeyyyyyy, it's Luna Lovegood and Daphne Greengrass!" George roared when they entered the shop.

"Hi, George!" Luna bounced enthusiastically behind the till and hugged him.

"How's my favourite crazy bitch?" he asked, making her laugh and swat his arm playfully.

"Hey, I thought this area was for employees only," a less-familiar voice piped up. Lee Jordan stepped out from the stockroom and waved at the two women. "Hey, Luna. Daphne, nice to see you again," he said, addressing the taller witch directly. "Are you feeling better?"

Daphne blushed, making Lee grin. "Much better, thanks, on account of not having touched alcohol since – or ever again, most likely."

"Yes, I've been meaning to have a word with you about that night, you two," Luna scolded the men. "You should know better than to get a lady that drunk. She was quite ill."

"I was perfectly willing to take care of her," Lee said seriously. Daphne's blush deepened from a pretty rose to a painful-looking puce.

George grinned evilly. "This sly devil has just come in from our Hogsmeade branch to pick up some stock. He works for me part-time."

"I do the morning show on WZRD, too," Lee added proudly. He grinned at Daphne, a flash of white teeth against creamy –dark skin. "You should tune in sometime. I'll dedicate a song to you."

"H-how will you know I'm listening?" Daphne squeaked.

"Instinct," Lee said, raising one eyebrow briefly. His blonde-haired mark stared back at him, at a complete loss. He just chuckled, obviously pleased with himself.

"I understand I'll be seeing you ladies tomorrow morning at ten for breakfast, then?" George asked, coming to Daphne's rescue. "And it had better be good, since you're making me get out of bed so early on a weekend."

"It will be lovely, as Harry's cooking it," Luna assured him. "You're welcome to drop by as well, Lee, if you like." Daphne shot her a dirty look, which she ignored. "I was hoping you'd offer your deejay services at the wedding reception. You're invited to the ceremony too, of course."

"I'm in," the dark-skinned man replied instantly, his grin broadening to a full smile.

"Well, we're off to start some potions brewing," Daphne said, clearly indicating her desire to get the hell out of there. She nodded awkwardly to George and Lee. "Erm. It was nice seeing you again."

"See you tomorrow," Lee reminded her.

"S-see you tomorrow," she echoed, grabbing Luna by the arm and turning away.

"Goodbye, ladies," George said with a grin.

XoXoXoXoXoX

"Oh my _gods_," Daphne giggled when they were out of earshot. "He was hitting on me!"

"You don't say," Luna replied good-humouredly. "What are you going to do about it?"

"_Nothing_. I can't even begin contemplating that kind of thing. I mean, it wouldn't be decent. I should probably wait 'till the body's cold, wouldn't you agree?"

"I suppose." Luna tilted her head to the side, observing her friend closely. "You've got Wrackspurts. Why don't you tell me what you're really thinking?"

They stopped to sit on a bench, enjoying the late September evening. Absorbed as they were in their conversation, neither witch noticed that they were being observed by two men. One watched from a distance, through a window; the other was hiding so close, it was a miracle that they had not sensed his presence. Blaise perked his ears, gingerly leaning closer to hear more.

"I miss Theo," Daphne honestly. "I'm starting to regret ever asking him to marry me. I wish I'd just kept my mouth shut, then we'd still be together and everything would be fine. I feel like I'm cracking up."

"I don't know about that, Daphne." Luna tilted her head to the side thoughtfully. "About things being fine, I mean. Don't you think the resentment would have built up and exploded and some point?"

"Maybe that's what happened," Daphne sighed. "I don't even know anymore. I can't remember why I thought getting married was important. I don't miss having to pick up after Theo, or how he snores when he lies on his back, or having Draco and Blaise at our place all the time, but I miss talking to him. I miss kissing him. I miss sleeping next to him at night, even if he does snore sometimes. But then I start thinking about it..." She trailed off, searching for the right way to explain what she was feeling. "I'm still so mad at him. I thought he loved me, but how can you say you love somebody if you wouldn't be willing to spend the rest of your life with them?"

"Maybe, in this case, love isn't the deciding factor," Luna replied. "Perhaps you and Theo were on the same path for a time, but your paths have now diverged. Love's not enough to conquer physics."

Daphne snorted. "If you say so."

"Can I ask you something?" Luna queried.

"Sure."

"Did you know that Draco was sleeping with Ginny Weasley? You mentioned that Draco and Blaise are friends with Theo, so I wondered..."

"No." Daphne shook her head ruefully. "That was one secret Draco kept from everyone. Not that he's bad at keeping secrets, but when I say he kept it from _everyone_, I mean it. Not even Theo knew until Draco came over one night all upset. Said Ginny's brother walked in on them fucking."

"Yes. Harry was devastated."

"I don't blame him." Daphne scuffed at the ground with one perfectly-polished shoe. "Although, I will say that I've seen changes for the better in Draco. He's not living the trust fund playboy lifestyle like Blaise; he's living very quietly and modestly, from what I understand, working a regular job at Gringotts." She smiled tiredly at her faithful friend. "I'm glad you and Harry don't judge me for the company I used to keep. I hung around Pansy in school some, but only because we were in the same year. I used to cringe at the stuff that came out of her mouth; she talked a big game about supporting the Dark Lord. Millicent was all about the Death Eater crap, too. Tracy Davis was all right, but we only ever talked about schoolwork, so I never really got to know her as a person. She just kept her mouth shut and stayed out of the way. I was glad when my sister came to Hogwarts in my third year, and I finally had somebody to talk to."

"I was lonely all throughout school," Luna remembered. "It wasn't until my fourth year that anyone really even talked to me much. Even when I was hanging around with Harry and everybody back then, I always felt like I was a little bit apart from the rest of them. And then I let them in, and considered them friends – and they forgot about me after the Battle of Hogwarts. Except for Ginny, who turned on me." A sad look crossed her features momentarily, but it was soon replaced with a smile. "It turned out all right. Life brought Harry and me back together in the best possible way, really. It restored my faith in the universe."

"At least one of us has had her faith restored. We should get back, I guess." Daphne rose from her seat, stretching. "I'm starving, and it's starting to get cold out here."

"Yes, I'm sure Harry's waiting for us. Astoria too, by now." Luna stood up as well. The two friends turned on the spot at the same time, disappearing with a _pop!_

Blaise let out a long breath. Hiding around the corner from the two witches had been a calculated risk that had paid off; the new information he'd gathered changed his plans entirely. Theo had not taken the bait with Blaise's little ploy of sending flowers to Daphne, but that was all right – it had not been a fatal miscalculation. Adding Lee Jordan into the mix was an unwelcome complication, though, one that could very well ruin everything. It was time to up the ante.

XoXoXoXoXoX

"I'm glad you both decided to stay the night," Luna told Astoria and Daphne. It was very late, and the three women were sitting with Harry in the living room, playing Exploding Snap. Several potions were bubbling slowly on the kitchen table, set to simmer overnight. "It will make it easier to get Astoria out of bed in the morning for the wedding planning meeting."

"Har har har," Astoria snarked. She threw down the last of her cards and stretched. "I was awake when you last visited me in the morning, thank you very much." She stifled a yawn. "Also, bacon is motivation enough."

"This is true," Luna agreed. "There will be plenty of bacon. There are two queen-sized beds in the guest room, take your pick."

Astoria rose and grabbed her bag from the living room floor. "Goodnight, all."

"Goodnight," called the remaining three friends together.

"I'm done in as well, I think," Harry said a few minutes later, yawning at the same time as Daphne. Only Luna seemed to be wide awake. "Come on, babe. Let's call it a night."

"I don't think I can sleep," Luna replied, gathering up the Exploding Snap cards and putting them back in their fireproof case. "You go on ahead. I'll be to bed in a little while." Harry gave her a curious glance, but kissed the top of her head nonetheless and dragged himself up the staircase.

Daphne was slower to leave, moving as though she had weights tied to her arms and legs. Luna recognized the symptoms of depression well: fatigue, sad mood, slowed speech and movement, and shallow, labile emotions. She had felt those same symptoms often in the days and weeks after her mother's death, and again when she had first gotten word about her father; she'd laughed and cried when socially appropriate, but nothing had ever seemed to fully reach her, and every moment had been a struggle to stay upright. She remembered feeling an incorporeal ache so deep, she had temporarily forgotten what it meant to be happy. The worst part was, the horrid feeling could not be driven away with any spell or conjuration, as could a Dementor. "Daphne? Are you all right?" Luna asked softly.

"I'll be fine," she mumbled. "Just tired. I'm so tired all the time."

Luna rose to her feet, discarding the Exploding Snap case on the coffee table and making her way to her friend's side. She grabbed the bag from Daphne's shoulder. "Come on. I'll take you to bed."

Daphne snorted, and for just a moment, a glimmer of her old self peeked through. "Oooh, baby. Promise?"

_She's still in there, _Luna thought with a smile._ I know she is._

XoXoXoXoXoX

After dropping Daphne off at the guest room, Luna ascended the staircase to the attic, her mind awash in memories and emotions. She smiled briefly as she passed the bedroom; Harry was already fast asleep and snoring gently, hugging her pillow to his bare chest. She resisted the sudden urge to wake him by pressing her naked body against his and continued her climb, pushing open the door to the dark sanctuary with something like relief. There would be time for the body later. Right now, she really needed to deal with her mind; the old ghosts walked, and they would not lie down again easily.

The attic was dark and quiet. She closed the door behind her and cast an Imperturbable Charm on it, lit a single candle with a wave of her hand, then walked over to the old wardrobe and opened it. It was divided in half, with the left being devoted to old clothes (and Stubby Boardman's bong), and the right having several drawers set below some shelves. It was from one of the shelves on the right that Luna picked up an ancient-looking, heavy leather book. She closed the doors to the wardrobe quietly and sat down in the middle of the floor on a forgotten throw pillow, cross-legged with the photograph album open in her lap. She thought it strange that she should be drawn to such an emotionally-charged object now, but Daphne had indirectly reminded her of its existence...

The first page was a photograph of a tiny baby with a wavy tuft of blonde hair, sleeping peacefully in her mother's arms. The woman holding the child was gazing down at her with a look of wonder, caressing one of the baby's rose-petal cheeks over and over again with a gentle forefinger. The woman's hair and wide eyes were plain brown, but her sweet, rounded facial features were the same as Luna's.

The next photograph showed Xeno and the woman with Luna, aged approximately seven months, posing somewhat formally in front of a Christmas tree. Xeno bore an unmistakable air of pride, puffing out his chest as he stood protectively behind his wife and child. The little girl on the woman's lap was a perfect mix of both parents, with her father's colouring and her mother's face. The facing page showed Luna blowing out her first birthday candle, with her parents cheering her on in the background.

There were precious memories in that album: Christmases, birthdays, family trips to the Lake District, and one expedition to Swansea, because Pandora Lovegood had wanted to visit the Welsh town with the evocative name. As time wore on through the album's pages, though, one could trace a gradual decline in the photographs' level of happiness. Pandora's eyes became gradually sadder and emptier, her smile less convincing. Xeno's expressions became uncomfortable and wary, and he shifted uneasily in the photographs, not touching his wife and not sure where to look. The last photograph was of Luna alone, taken the day she left for Hogwarts for the first time. She stood alone on Platform 9 ¾, looking lost.

She did not realize she was crying until Harry's sleepy voice shook her out of her reverie. "Babe? What are you doing up here? What's wrong?" He sat down next to her and gathered her into his arms, glancing down at the book in her hands.

"I'm sorry," Luna sniffled. "I didn't mean to wake you. I guess the Imperturbable Charm wore off."

Gently, Harry took the album from her and flipped back to the first page. "Oh. That's your mum," he murmured. "Wow. You look so much like her."

"She missed my whole life, more or less. I wish she were here to see me get married."

Harry looked through the album in silence, pausing here and there to examine a photograph in closer detail, chuckling softly at the candid images of his fiancée as a toddler. He closed it gently at the end with a dull _thud._ "You've never told me what happened to your mum. Well, not in any detail, anyway – just that one of her spells went rather badly wrong one day." He peered at her, noticing that her expression changed slightly; just how, he could not say. "Is that true?'

"No." Luna's voice was barely above a whisper. "One of her spells went rather badly _right_."

Harry frowned. "What do you mean?"

"It was summer. I was nine," Luna began. "Mum had been...not well for a long time. Sometimes she'd be very hyperactive – talking really fast about all kinds of plans and ideas she had, barely sleeping, that kind of thing. Then she'd flip-flop suddenly and sleep all the time, and cry all the time, and Daddy couldn't do anything to help her. That was how things were most of the time. We tried taking vacations, Cheering Charms, various potions, everything; nothing helped. She would say things like, 'You would be better off without me,' and of course Daddy and I told her it wasn't true, but he never really took her seriously. One day..." She trailed off, pressing her lips together in an attempt to quell the tears. Harry put the album down and hugged her tightly. After a few moments, she was able to speak again. "One day, she and Daddy had a terrible argument. I don't even remember what it was about, if I ever knew. I was sitting on the stairs, watching them fight. He stormed out, and my mum turned around and looked at me and said, 'You see? I told you you'd be better off without me.' And she grabbed her wand, and there was this flash of green light..."

"Oh my gods," Harry gasped. "She didn't..."

Luna nodded, temporarily unable to speak. When she regained her voice, it wavered. "I'll never forget that moment, you know? When someone dies, and the spark in their eyes goes out?"

Harry knew all too well; a memory of Cedric Diggory washed over him briefly. He squeezed her again. "I didn't know one could cast an Unforgivable on oneself," he blurted, at a loss for what to say.

She nodded again grimly. "One can. Daddy found me when he came back, sitting on the floor with my mum's head in my lap, crying and trying to wake her up. I didn't know what she'd cast – I'd never heard of it before."

Harry buried his face in her hair. "Oh, gods. Luna. Have you ever told anyone else this story?"

"Mike and Gen," she said quietly. "I'm glad I did. Mike made me talk to one of his friends at the university where he works, a psychiatrist by the name of Dr. Roach who teaches at the Faculty of Medicine. I started seeing him once a week for an hour. Obviously I left out the bits about magic, but I did describe my mother's behaviour to him, and he said it sounds as though she likely had bipolar disorder. He helped me make sense of the things I'd experienced as a child, and taught me how to keep myself healthy as an adult."

"I've heard of bipolar disorder," Harry remembered. "Didn't they used to call it 'manic depression'?"

"Yes. There are Muggle medications that can help one manage the disease, and talking to someone helps a lot, but there isn't a cure, and of course my parents had no way of knowing about Muggle treatments. As you know, magical science offers very little in terms of mental illness treatment. The Janus Thickey ward is a sad example of that." She conjured a tissue and wiped her nose, still sniffling a little. "I blamed my dad for years. It was only after I left home that I found out that it really wasn't his fault. He had no frame of reference for what was happening to my mum, but he did try to help her. I was thinking about coming back to talk to him when I got word that he'd died."

In that moment, the last puzzle piece finally dropped into place for Harry. Suddenly, for the first time ever, he understood his wife-to-be completely. Contrary to what she may have feared, the picture did not frighten him; rather, he was humbled by the unspeakable beauty of her strength and bravery. He tilted her chin gently upward, forcing her gaze to his with a caress along her jaw-line. "I'm so lucky."

"Why are you lucky?"

"You're so strong. You've been through so much, and you're not even bitter."

One corner of her mouth trembled with a faint smile. "I know you are, but what am I?"

He laughed and kissed her soundly. "See? That's what I'm talking about. You never let anything keep you down. You're unbeatable."

"I'm a good match for you, then. You've been through even more than I have, and you're pretty unbeatable yourself."

He rested his forehead against hers, staring into her eyes. "I'm sorry about what happened to you, babe. I really am. No one should have to go through that."

"Agreed, but that's not my reality anymore," she reminded him, nuzzling his nose with hers. "My life now is better than I had dared to hope. I found all the love I was looking for, Harry. That's the stuff of fairy tales."

They kissed again sweetly. "Want to go to bed?" he asked hopefully.

"All right." She nibbled his bare neck where it met his shoulder, making him shiver. "I need a cuddle."

What followed stoked a fire in Harry's memory for years to come. She was truly his, body and soul; though they cast Silencing and Imperturbable Charms in consideration of their guests, they still made an effort to be quiet, communicating only through touch. He felt the need to caress every square inch of her skin, ivory-gold in the dim light; it would reassure them both, somehow. Luna accepted this with obvious pleasure, arching into his touch when his fingers slid over the curve of her arse, and later, when he cupped the swell of each breast in turn. Lips and tongue followed fingers over every curve and hollow. She was delightful this way; all of his senses were fully engaged by this woman, who could no longer resist giving voice to her pleasure.

XoXoXoXoXoX

Astoria was up with the sun, well before anybody else, pulling on her workout wear and running shoes and heading out for a run. Luna and Harry lived in the middle of the countryside, and there were no real roads leading to their house, so running on wet grass would prove an interesting – if slightly dangerous – challenge.

She always found that she could not think while running. It was equally true this morning as any other – she could focus only on the crisp autumn air like cold water in her lungs, and the regular pound of her heartbeat echoed in the sound of her feet on the ground. It was unfamiliar territory, and much to her surprise, she soon ran past a very strange house that she had not noticed before. It looked as though it should fall down, by rights, but the prickle of magic in the air told her exactly what was holding it up. Much to her amusement, a plump middle-aged woman was outside, yelling at George Weasley, who was wheeling about with a garden gnome in his hands. As Astoria watched, he let go of the gnome, which went sailing over the garden wall and landed head-first on a rock with a _slam_ some distance away. "Twenty points!" he crowed, throwing his arms up in victory.

Astoria snorted, changing her path slightly so she would run toward the house instead of past it. "I think you killed it," she called out when she was within earshot. George wheeled about in surprise, a look of delighted shock on his face. He recovered himself quickly, though, and strode forward to greet her.

"Heeeeeey, it's Astoria Greengrass! Mum, this is one of Luna's friends, the bridesmaid I'll be standing up with, in fact," George said, sketching a courtly bow to Astoria. Molly rolled her eyes at her one-eared son and shook Astoria's proffered hand.

"Good morning, Mrs. Weasley," Astoria smiled. In the presence of George's mother, her Pureblood manners kicked in, in spite of her deliberate disavowal of all things traditional. "Please excuse my appearance – I was running."

Personally, George thought she looked smoking hot, all flushed and sweaty. It made him wonder what she'd look like during a good tumble between the sheets.

"My daughter is a professional athlete; I understand completely, dear." Molly gave Astoria an appraising look, noting her rosy cheeks and sparkling dark eyes, enlivened by the morning air and the physical activity. "How do you know Luna?"

"She's worked with my sister for quite awhile now. We've all become quite good friends. We were at Hogwarts together, but we didn't really know each other back then." Astoria shrugged. "House rivalries being what they are, you understand. Daphne and I were both in Slytherin."

"They do say opposites attract," George pointed out. Molly gave him a sharp look, but said nothing.

"In any case, I should be getting back. I'll see you later this morning, George?" Astoria grinned at him.

"Wouldn't miss it," he said truthfully.

Astoria nodded to him, and then to his mother. "It was lovely to meet you, Mrs. Weasley."

"And you, dear," Molly returned absently. She wasn't quite sure what to make of the obvious chemistry between her son and the Slytherin girl, but she wasn't altogether convinced she liked it. The young woman was charming, no doubt, but...

Meanwhile, George was absorbed in watching Astoria's arse as she ran off with even, loping strides. She was in incredible shape, and he found himself wishing she would leave a few more marks on him. Personally, he wanted to sink his teeth into that arse.

XoXoXoXoXoX

"I'm glad everyone could make it," Harry said when they were all seated around the kitchen table. Luna had Engorged it slightly so that it would seat all of them; she sat to Harry's right, with Daphne and Astoria next to her. George was sitting next to Astoria, with Lee on his other side, and Ron completed the circle between Lee and Harry. "Thanks for agreeing to meet at the unholy hour of ten o'clock in the morning to discuss our wedding."

"Thanks for the bacon," Astoria cheered from her spot.

"And thank you all for agreeing to help us with our wedding," Luna added. "Luckily, we'll have the Hogwarts elves to take care of the food, and Professor Flitwick has apparently demanded to be in charge of the decorations, so that will make things easier."

"At least it's Flitwick, so you'll wind up with fairy lights and conjured bubbles. If it were McGonagall, you'd be getting married in a sea of tartan." Astoria popped the last of her bacon into her mouth and winked at Luna. George was seized by the sudden desire to throw her over his shoulder and drag her up to the guest room, caveman-style.

"Well, it's going to be over the holidays, so I suppose that wouldn't be so bad," Luna interjected. Silence descended as all eyes turned to her.

"Are you _serious_?" Astoria stared, open-mouthed.

"No." Luna grinned mischievously, and the table erupted.

Even Daphne let out a genuine giggle, which Luna took to be a good sign. Lately, it had been much more difficult to make her usually-jovial friend laugh. "Decorations aside," the elegant blonde continued, "it's my and Ron's job to make sure that the day goes well, and that Luna and Harry enjoy themselves. They've gone over the basic plan with us, so here it is: we're going to have the wedding and the reception both in the Great Hall, one right after the other, in the evening. Kingsley Shacklebolt is going to do the ceremony at 4:30, cocktails start at 5:00, and dinner will be at 6:00."

"We've asked him to keep the ceremony brief," Harry added, "and we're not having a traditional receiving line, at my request."

Ron nodded enthusiastically in agreement. "And I say well done, mate. My mum insisted, but that thing was a right pain in the arse."

"Luna suggested that we just wander around during the cocktail hour and chat with people instead. We want to keep the whole thing very relaxed." Harry smiled at his fiancée.

"Are you taking any pictures?" Lee asked. As a half-blood, he was well-acquainted with the Muggle tradition of posing for formal photographs.

"We don't know anyone with a camera," Harry admitted. "I wish Colin Creevey were here."

"I've got a camera," Lee said. "I'll be there to do the music, why not let me take the pictures, too?"

"That would be wonderful. I don't think we want to pose, though," Luna mentioned. "Just take candids. Those are always better, anyway."

"Oh, you know me, Luna," Lee laughed. "I'm the king of candid." Daphne silently agreed, flushing slightly and dropping her eyes to her lap.

"Other than that, there's not much to discuss. We have a few months to send out the invitations, which will be mostly me and the girls," Luna said, addressing the table in general. "It'll be standard black dress robes for the guys, and we ladies are going dress shopping this afternoon, so..." she shrugged. "Eat, drink, and be merry. That's all the official business we had for now."

"Easiest wedding ever," George commented.

"We all know how you like them easy, George," Astoria snickered. The redhead threw back his head and laughed. Unbeknownst to the others, one large, warm hand came to rest on her knee under the table, squeezing once gently. She gave no indication that she felt it, merely crossing her legs so that his hand naturally fell off. He frowned inwardly.

"Oi, pass the bacon," Ron called. Astoria obliged, and everyone tucked into breakfast properly.

XoXoXoXoXoX

George's golden opportunity came when he was waiting for the bathroom, alone in the upstairs hallway. When the door opened, Astoria stepped out to find him leaning against the opposite wall, arms and ankles crossed. "Miss Greengrass."

"Mr. Weasley." She made to brush past him, but he caught her hand and pulled her back into the dark hallway.

"Not so fast," he murmured. She immediately disentangled her fingers from his, but stood facing him. "You owe me an apology for assaulting my person, you know."

"Assaulting your person?" Astoria repeated, the ghost of a smirk lifting one corner of her mouth. Her brown eyes sparkled in the low light. "Whatever do you mean? I had a perfectly nice visit with you and your mum. I don't remember any assault."

"You know bloody well what I mean." George leaned forward and whispered in her ear. "I had the marks for a week."

He was completely unprepared for her reaction. Lightning-quick, she grabbed him by the shoulders and shoved him back against the wall, holding him at arm's length and staring into his eyes. "Did you, now?" she purred. Without warning, one hand flashed out and grabbed his balls through his trousers, squeezing lightly. George's eyes went wide, his jaw falling open. She pressed in on him, grinning slyly, pinning him against the wall with one hand resting next to his head, and the other still gripping him. Her lips next to his ear sent a flash of fire directly to his crotch. "You got off lucky. I'm capable of much worse."

_I didn't get off at all, that's just the problem,_ George thought. He tried to speak, but all that came out was a strangled gasp. Astoria sank her teeth lightly into his earlobe, making him shiver. He turned his head to kiss her, but with faint chuckle in his ear and another squeeze down below, she was gone.

**A/N: Mental illness is something that affects us all, but it's difficult to get people to talk about it. For more information on any mental illness, in Canada, contact the Canadian Mental Health Association; in the USA, contact NAMI, the National Alliance on Mental Illness. The Internet will have all the contact information for your local branch. Anywhere in the world, if you or someone you love is in crisis, go to your nearest emergency room. No matter how bad things are right now, you can make it better. **

**On a less serious note: Oooh, Astoria, you bad girl! Up next: Luna and Daphne make a breakthrough at work, creeper Blaise continues to scheme, and we get a sneak peek at the inner machinations of Azkaban prison... **


	12. Ulterior Motives

**A/N: I'm a downer tonight. It's been a very traumatic week for a few people who are close to me; while no trauma has befallen me personally, it has been difficult to witness the suffering of those whom I cherish. I'm also disappointed that there were remarkably few reviews for Chapter 11, even from my beloved regulars. I'm not sure what to make of that; I guess you didn't like it? Oh well. Hope you're still reading anyway.**

**I know I promised a breakthrough with the mystery object in this chapter, but it didn't seem to fit, so I left it for Chapter 13. In its place, I offer lemons.**

**This chapter is dedicated to an IRL friend who does not read my work, but unwittingly gave me its alternate title; it is also dedicated to another, very dear IRL friend who **_**does**_** read and enjoy my work, but refuses to review on the lame-ass grounds that "reviews are hard". Countdown to text message: 3...2...1...*ding* **

**Chapter 12 – Ulterior Motives (Or, Positive Forward Motion)**

There was no laughter within the dark walls of Azkaban prison. Soft moans, the sound of sobbing, and screams, yes, but never laughter. Not even the demented kind.

In the post-Voldemort magical world, the Dementors were considered to be cruel and unusual punishment; they were not required for one to go mad over the course of one's sentence. The ones that had been re-captured after the war were themselves confined to a dungeon, deep underground within the prison and well away from the human prisoners. The new guards were human; though less likely to suck out someone's soul indiscriminately, they were also somewhat more susceptible to bribery and corruption than their predecessors.

Lucius Malfoy, once a broad-shouldered and muscular man, had lost a considerable amount of weight in the four-odd years of his confinement. His diet lacked protein (as well as almost every other nutrient), and his formerly well-kept hair had lost its sheen. His dove-grey eyes, though sunken, still glittered intelligently over the sharp spectres of his cheekbones. He had held on to the shreds of his sanity over the years by conjugating Latin verbs in his head, reciting bits of poetry to himself, and by trying not to picture the faces of his wife and son. He was surprised as hell when one of the guards came to his cell with word that Jacob Nott wanted to see him. _I'm_ _not ready to die_ had been the first scattered thought that crossed his mind.

Nott's visit to his cell was brief and surprisingly pleasant, at least on its face. No mention was made of the Dark Lord, Lucius's incompetence as a servant, death, or what have you. Jacob was on the short side, given the stature of his son, and the stature of his presence in a room; in that respect, he towered over the tallest man. His ice-blue eyes both saw and judged a man's soul instantaneously, and invariably found him wanting. His head of tightly-curled hair, once brown, had gone white. Even in prison, both his hair and his short, white beard were perfectly manicured, immaculate. He did not deign to sit down, but merely stood in front of Malfoy with his hands clasped loosely in front of him. His posture was relaxed, his manner dangerously conciliatory. "Lucius."

"Jacob." The two old schoolmates greeted each other with a wary nod of the head. The shorter man's piercing blue eyes were faintly amused as he surveyed his former compatriot, ferreting out the changes in the once-elegant man sitting on the bed. Lucius could not help his cracks showing, but under Nott's unforgiving stare, he resented them. "To what do I owe the honour?"

"I heard that you are about to become a grandfather," Nott said smoothly. "I have come to offer my congratulations."

_That's unlikely,_ Malfoy thought. "Thank you."

"Rumour has it the girl is a Pureblood, but a blood traitor. Odd choice, don't you think?" One corner of Nott's mouth twitched, hiding a grin of pleasure. "I understand Draco turned down the more prestigious arrangement you had made for him. Pity - the Greengrass girls are quite lovely, and excellent Pureblood stock. My son is involved with the elder daughter, you understand. I have been encouraging him to make the union permanent for some time."

"Best of luck," the blond man replied wryly. "Why don't you tell me why you're really here?"

"Come now, Lucius," Nott pouted. "It isn't polite to cast aspersions on the motivations of one's guests."

Lucius merely flicked an eyebrow and said nothing, a look of imperious disbelief etched on his Patrician features.

"You wound me," Nott told him. His sharp eyes twinkled with an unholy light as he savoured his sparring match with the Malfoy patriarch. "I come to offer an opportunity to you, Lucius."

"An opportunity," Malfoy repeated drily.

"Yes, quite a valuable opportunity, in fact. I can offer the finest Pureblood education for your grandchild, beginning as soon as he or she is two years of age. You see, several like-minded gentlemen and I are starting a boarding school, much like Hogwarts, for Pureblood families who wish to have a viable alternative within the United Kingdom. I understand that you yourself wished to send your son to Durmstrang, but your wife objected due to its great distance from home." Nott spoke the word "wife" the way one might say "feces".

Predictably, Malfoy stiffened at the implied insult. _This demented little wretch could not possibly understand the passion I have carried for Narcissa for more than thirty-five years,_ he thought disgustedly. Nott's offer held little appeal for him, but he could not resist the opportunity to uncover the man's weak spot. "What is it you wish in return?"

"So businesslike and direct," Nott chuckled. "I admire you, Lucius, truly." He finally decided to take a seat in the only chair available, a rickety thing that sat in front of the crumbling desk. He turned it around, sitting with his knees almost touching Malfoy's. "You're up for parole soon."

"My hearing is in December," Malfoy admitted warily. "What of it?"

"I ask only that once you leave this place, you assist me in locating a relative of mine. As a family man, I'm sure you can appreciate the importance of my plea. The woman I seek is a Pureblood by birth, although she does not know it, and long lost to me." Nott leaned forward, his icy eyes peering into Malfoy's cool grey ones. "My daughter."

XoXoXoXoXoX

"Ooh, Luna, look at these!" Daphne came bursting into the private dressing room of Twilfitt's with an armload of wedding gowns. A saleswoman bobbed in her wake, loaded down with several more selections. "I found one I think would look smashing on you!"

"Then why do you have six dresses in your arms, Daphne?" Astoria couldn't resist asking.

Her elder sister stuck her tongue out in a thoroughly non-Pureblooded manner and flounced over to Luna. "Because you never know," she replied.

_If it keeps Daphne cheerful for an afternoon, I'll try on a thousand gowns,_ Luna thought. She stood up and held out her arms. "All right, give me your favourite first."

"Have you ever tried on a wedding gown before?" the saleswoman queried, taking the hanger before Luna could.

"No."

"You'll need help," she informed Luna shortly. "I should come in with you."

"Erm..." Luna looked mildly embarrassed. She was thinking of her scar, and hoping that the woman would not make some off-handed remark about it.

"Nothing I haven't seen before, love. Step in here." The woman held open the door to a tiny changing cubicle; it didn't seem large enough to hold Luna, the saleswoman, _and_ the gown. Once inside, the woman began removing the gown from the hanger and undoing the fastenings, while Luna stripped down to her bra and knickers. She was oddly relieved by the woman's bored and vacant expression. "Bra too, love. You won't be wearing an everyday bra in a gown like this." Luna's cheeks pinked, but she removed her bra anyway. The woman produced a low-backed corset instead, which she held up for Luna to step into, and then fastened tightly at the back; the stiff undergarment made it difficult to breathe deeply, but Luna found she could not slouch, and it pushed her breasts up nicely. "Good," the woman said, holding the gown open. "Now, step in from the top."

Daphne's choice was an ivory peau-de-soie number, free of beading and embroidery, with a soft cowl neckline that hung gracefully between cap-sleeves. A similar cowl-drape in the back left Luna's skin bare to the level of her waist. _No bra, indeed_, she thought. The long skirt hugged her waist and hips tightly, flaring out below the knees in a classic mermaid-cut, with a sweep train behind. There was no mirror inside the cubicle, so Luna carefully stepped out into the dressing room for her first peek at herself in a wedding gown.

Daphne shrieked and flapped her hands, making Astoria roll her eyes. "Oh my gods, Luna, it's beautiful!"

Luna peered at herself in the three-way mirror with her mouth agape, but did not say a word. She twisted a little to see the back view – her waist was bound into the gown with a set of laces, and a row of tiny, decorative buttons ran from just beneath the laces to the edge of the train. "I – wow," she finally murmured.

"Daphne was right, Luna. It _is_ smashing. Do you like it?" Astoria asked, rising from her seat and coming over to inspect the gown. "It makes your bum look fantastic," she declared.

Luna tilted her head to the side, her silver-blue eyes wide. "I've never worn anything like this. I don't know. Is it...you know..._me_?

"I think so," Daphne breathed. "Oh, Luna, you have no idea how lovely you look."

"I like it," Luna admitted, "but I can't separate my thighs very far."

"You usually take the dress off for that part," Astoria quipped.

"Yes, but walking is hard."

"Worth it," Astoria and Daphne declared at the same time.

"I suggest you try on a few styles, so you know what feels best," the saleswoman advised. Luna thought that was good advice, so she minced off to the cubicle to try on another dress, her assistant in tow.

The next dress was the one that Luna had picked out from a magazine. It was much more princess-y, with a voluminous tulle skirt and a fitted, strapless, boned bodice, embroidered in pink and silver roses. When she stepped out and glimpsed herself in the mirror, Luna frowned. "Oh, no. No, I don't think so," she said, shaking her head. "It looked good on paper, but..."

"I agree," Astoria responded immediately. "It's not you. Pretty dress, but it doesn't say 'Luna'."

"Next!" Daphne prompted.

A flurry of ivory and white followed – ball gowns, sheaths, even one sassy, short number – but there was nothing that Luna liked so much as the gown Daphne had chosen for her. As time wore on and her skin began to chafe from trying on so many stiff, unfamiliar dresses, she began to think that a little trouble walking might indeed be worth it. She put the first dress on again, and asked the saleswoman to bring out some veils to try with it.

"This is the one, Luna," Daphne proclaimed when she walked out again. "It looks amazing. It's just perfectly you."

The saleswoman placed an ivory lace mantilla on Luna's head. "You can wear your hair any way you like with this veil," she said. "I think it would be an appropriate choice with this gown."

Daphne's eyes filled with tears and pride as she took in the sight of her best friend in full bridal regalia. She pressed her hands to her mouth. "You look so beautiful," she whispered behind her fingers.

Astoria had gone quiet, but her dark eyes were shining, too. "It's perfect, Luna," she admitted gruffly. "I don't think you could do any better."

Ten minutes later, they left Twilfitt & Tatting's with the gown and veil securely wrapped, carried tenderly in Luna's arms. She had also purchased a corset, which Astoria had teased her about endlessly, although the dark pixie swore she recognized the grave importance of a support garment. The three friends decided to have a drink at the Cauldron before parting ways for the day. They each stopped at the bar to grab a Butterbeer, taking their drinks to the same booth that Harry and Daphne had used after ring shopping.

"Well, that was easy," Astoria commented, sliding in next to her sister. Luna sat on the other side with her packages parked next to her. "Although, I've heard it's not unusual to buy the first dress you try."

"Probably because everybody goes for their dream dress first," Daphne remarked wistfully.

"Is this hard for you, Daphne?" Luna asked gently.

"A little," she admitted, "but I'd much rather be your maid of honour and be a bit envious, than not be involved in your wedding because I'm going through a breakup." Her eyes were still a little red-rimmed from the tears she'd shed in the shop, but she smiled wickedly. "Besides, if I get lonely, I think Lee will keep me company."

Across the pub, hidden away in another booth out of the women's sight, Theo sat gloomily staring into a glass of Firewhiskey. Blaise sat across from him, sipping the same and looking perplexed.

"Mate, she's right over there. I don't understand why you don't just go over and ask to speak with her privately. I don't think she'll rip your head off. It's not like you were screaming insults at each other the last time you spoke."

Theo's shoulders were hunched up to his ears. He scowled into his drink as though it could tell him what to do, if he could only intimidate it hard enough. "She's with her sister. Astoria will eat me alive."

"What's she going to do, make you cry?" Blaise taunted. "Don't you think Daphne's worth the risk?"

Theo sucked in a breath and put his drink down. "Yeah, you're right." Straightening his jumper, he slid out of the booth and made his way over to the table where the three witches sat. He heard Daphne laugh at something Luna said, making his gut swoop nervously. "Erm. Hi, Daphne."

All three women turned to look at him, their laughter abruptly ceasing. "Theo," Daphne replied neutrally.

"Erm. C-could I – could I talk to you for a minute? In p-private?" he stuttered. Astoria's glare was making him feel sick. Luna was silent, but undoubtedly on Daphne's side, as well. He felt about a foot tall.

The three women exchanged a glance. Astoria went so far as to shake her head slightly at Daphne, but after a moment, the tall, curvy blonde motioned for her sister to let her out of the booth. Astoria acquiesced, but made sure to stand on Theo's foot in the process.

He led Daphne to a dark corner near the door, where the comings and goings would muffle their conversation, should anyone be eavesdropping. She looked beautiful as always, in an emerald-green turtleneck and simple black slacks, but her expression was unwelcomingly bland, her arms crossed over her chest. Theo stood an appropriate distance away, unused to being this far out in her personal space.

"Hey." His voice was low and husky. She looked up at him, weakening his knees with her huge brown eyes. _How did I forget about her eyes?_ "How've you been?"

"Holding up, I suppose." Her voice wavered slightly, but she lifted her chin defiantly and pressed on. "You?"

"I can't sleep without you," he blurted. "Daphne, I miss you so much."

"You're going to miss me for awhile, Theo," she said quietly. "It will take time to get used to living without each other."

Theo's heart broke. "Is that really all you can say to me?"

"What were you hoping I would say? That I can't live without you? Hate to tell you this, Theo, but I'm discovering I can." Her arms tightened across her chest, her expression moving from one of reserve to one of barely-suppressed anger. "I'm sorry if you're finding it harder than I am, but I gave you the choice to stay with me forever, or move on, and this is what you chose."

"I was wrong," he muttered brokenly, his head bent. "There's got to be a way we can work this out. Please?"

"No." She was resolute. "Theo, I'm not really what you want. If I were, we'd be planning our own wedding. You're just scared right now, and you're convinced that giving in would be easier than moving on."

"That's not true! What, you think it's easy for me to come crawling back to you in front of everyone? Look, _I'm sorry!_ I made a big mistake, but I _love_ you! Why can't you forgive me? Don't I deserve your forgiveness?"

"At the moment? No." She was faintly triumphant now. "You haven't done anything to earn it. All you've done is bitch that you're lonely and state the obvious: that you made a big fucking mistake." She cocked her head to the side; what came out of her mouth next was not completely true, but was designed to wound as deeply as possible. "I've already had an offer for a date, you know. I've been thinking of saying yes."

Theo crumpled visibly. "My gods, Daphne, am I that replaceable?"

"No. I'll never replace you, but I have to move on." Daphne's voice no longer wavered. "Let me go, Theo," she bade, turning and walking away.

"No! I'm not going to give up on you, Daphne," he called after her. Several people turned to stare, but he didn't care. "I love you!"

"Oh, shut up," she muttered under her breath as she slid back into place next to Astoria, ignoring her sister's raised eyebrows and Luna's wide-eyed look of shock. "Who's up for another round, then?"

Across the pub, Blaise shook his head, also muttering to himself under his breath. "For fuck's sake, Theo."

XoXoXoXoXoX

The three women spent longer than they meant to at The Leaky Cauldron. When they went their separate ways – Daphne and Luna back to The Rook, and Astoria out into Wizarding London – the shops in Diagon Alley were beginning to close up. Astoria passed by Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes just as George was flipping the sign to "closed" and locking the front doors. He seemed to be closing alone; seized by the desire for another game of cat and mouse, she walked up to the doors and knocked lightly.

"We're closed," George called from behind the till, without looking up. Astoria rolled her eyes impatiently and knocked again, louder and slower this time. George finally glanced up crossly, his expression changing when he saw who was knocking. He strolled over to the door, appearing in no hurry to unlock it, a mocking grin plastered across his face. "I'm sorry, Ms. Greengrass, but you'll have to wait until tomorrow to buy your love potions," he yelled through the glass, pointing exaggeratedly at the "closed" sign.

Undeterred, Astoria raised a fist and knocked again, extra-slowly and pointedly, on the glass between George's eyes. His grin widened as he slid the deadbolt back and swung the door inward. "Finally," she remarked, stepping inside the shop. "I knew you'd cotton on eventually."

"My lady. Welcome to my humble establishment." George bowed with a flourish. "Wonders to boggle the mind and delight the senses await thee – at reasonable prices, naturally."

Astoria rolled her eyes. When George straightened up, she gestured at the chained-off staircase marked "employees only". "What's up there?"

"That staircase leads from my humble establishment to my humble abode," George explained.

"You don't say." Before he could protest, she jumped the chain and dashed up the stairs, leaving him to chase her. She had expected a door that would lead to a messy flat if she opened it, but the loft that met her eyes was surprisingly neat and orderly. "Do you live by yourself?" she asked curiously, sitting down on the top stair. She would neither truly invade his privacy, nor enter his living space until and unless he extended an invitation.

"I do now," George replied quietly, taking a seat next to her. "My twin brother lived here with me before...erm, before." A sad look crossed his face momentarily. He rarely spoke of the war, other than to express the hope that it would never happen again.

With perfect understanding, Astoria reached over and touched the left side of his face, where his ear was missing, turning his face toward her. He flinched, but allowed it. "You've been through a lot," she said softly. Her dark eyes had gone from mischievous to soft, pulling him into their depths.

"Me and everybody else." George was unimpressed by his own bravery, which made it all the more impressive. Astoria was really starting to like him, in spite of herself. For George's part, the sudden change in her attitude toward him was making him dizzy – or maybe that was just the woman herself; he didn't know. She was wearing a black hooded sweatshirt and jeans, which made her look somehow tough and sweet at the same time. He longed to unzip the hoodie and see what she wore underneath.

In that moment, Astoria leaned in and brushed her lips gently over his scar in a feathery kiss, making him shiver. A moment later, her mouth descended on his in a passionate, fiery embrace. When they broke apart a few moments later, her expressive eyes glittered exultantly. "I'm too young for you."

"There's only four years' difference. We're both adults."

Their lips and tongues tangled again briefly. "You don't really expect me to be that easy, do you?"

"Easy? _You?_ Never." George's hand slid up Astoria's thigh. She playfully pretended to slap him across the face. "Ouch!"

"Naughty boy," she crooned. "A gentleman buys a lady dinner first."

He squeezed her long, muscular leg gently. "I don't see any gentlemen around here, do you?" he whispered in her ear.

"Lecher."

"I knew you'd cotton on eventually."

She laughed and kissed him again, but her insistence on having dinner with him was quite firm, as was George's determination to lure her back to his loft afterward. As he retrieved a jacket from his closet while she waited in the hallway, George reflected that he didn't know what had made her come knocking on his door. He was glad she had done so.

XoXoXoXoXoX

When Luna and Daphne returned to The Rook, they took Luna's dress upstairs straightaway. The bride removed her gown and veil from the packaging and hung them up gingerly inside a garment bag that she had waiting inside her wardrobe. The corset was placed in a little-used drawer.

"You don't think Harry will peek at your dress?" Daphne wondered.

"Not if I put a Notice-Me-Not Charm on it," Luna tittered, waving her wand over the garment bag. It immediately seemed to blend in unremarkably with the other clothing hanging in the wardrobe.

"Ah, hiding in plain sight." Daphne nodded approvingly. "I still say you've got some Slytherin in you."

"I don't know about that, but I _do_ get some Gryffindor in me several times a week," Luna tittered.

Daphne threw her head back and laughed. They were both silent for a few moments, contemplating the day. "You know, I think I'm ready to go home," she mused. "I can laugh again. Seeing Theo today was – I don't know, liberating somehow. I was scared that when I saw him again, I'd just start crying and beg him to come back. That didn't happen."

"No, it didn't. If anything, that's what Theo did." Luna smiled briefly. "He made quite an arse out of himself, actually."

Daphne laughed shortly. "He's been getting lots of practice at that lately."

"That's not your problem anymore. You're moving on, Daphne," Luna reminded her.

"To where, though?" Daphne wondered.

"It doesn't matter right now. Just keep putting one foot in front of the other. Positive forward motion will get you where you're going."

Daphne smiled at her ethereal friend. "Positive forward motion? I like that." She reached behind her and pulled her champagne-coloured hair over her shoulder, holding the strands in front of her eyes to check for split ends. "I've been thinking about getting a breakup haircut."

"Couldn't hurt," Luna said cheerfully.

XoXoXoXoXoX

Blaise frowned at Theo, who was practically climbing the walls of Nott Manor. "Good gods, man, you're going to leave fingernail marks in the wallpaper. You need to calm the fuck down."

"I can't calm down, Blaise!" Theo yelled, pulling at his curly brown hair in agitation. "Merlin, she's getting roses and offers for dates already? What the fuck am I gonna do? I tried to apologize, and she didn't even care!"

"Theo, listen to me very carefully," Blaise said. He was sitting on Theo's bed, watching his best friend erupt. "If that was your idea of an apology, you might as well just forget about ever having a decent relationship with any woman, never mind getting Daphne back."

"Oh, sage advice from the guy who _isn't_ the king of healthy relationships," Theo growled. "First you were clueless, and suddenly now you know all the secrets of woman-taming? Fuck you."

Blaise laughed. "Theo, listen to you. You're losing it."

"No, I'm losing Daphne!" Theo wailed. His ebony-skinned friend only laughed harder, wiping tears of mirth from his almond-shaped eyes. "You're a fucking arsehole for laughing, by the way."

"I can't help it. You're a joke," Blaise snickered. "Honestly, mate, if you want to get Daphne back, you're going to have to really get her attention. Do something big."

"But what?"

"That's what we have to figure out."

"We?" Theo looked skeptical. "You're going to help me?"

"Well, you obviously can't do it on your own," Blaise pointed out. His blue-eyed friend scowled at him, but could not refute the truth.

XoXoXoXoXoX

Luna woke up Sunday morning lying prone next to Harry with an idea that she could not shake. She felt as though she had hardly seen him lately; he'd been so busy at work, and she'd been so busy the rest of the time, that they had not had a chance to just talk and do nothing. Now that they had privacy again, and their schedules were free for a day, she decided the time was ripe to show Harry just how much she appreciated his support during a crazy time. In retrospect, it had been a subtle test of their relationship; in Luna's estimation, they had passed with all O's.

Harry was lying on his stomach as well, with his face turned to one side, blissfully peaceful. She dove under the covers, grateful that her fiancé slept naked, and knelt astride his thighs, beginning her massage on his lower back.

"Huh?" He jerked awake, glancing over his shoulder sleepily at the witch straddling him. She was wearing one of his tee shirts and nothing else; combined with her sleep-mussed hair, she was adorably dishevelled. "Oh. Ooh. Hmmm." He dropped his forehead to the pillow.

"Feel good?" She ran her hands up the column of his back, eliciting a groan.

"Mmm-hmmm." He sighed deeply. She swept her hands down again, this time running the heel of her hand down each buttock in turn. Harry let out a pain-tinged groan of contentment. "Oh my gods. Do that again," he prompted.

"I should really be doing this with oil," Luna remarked, complying with his request. "Sweet almond oil works nicely."

A messy black head popped up from the pillow. "Do you have any?"

"As it happens," Luna said, "I think I might." She crawled off of him to dig in her bedside table, producing a small glass bottle. "Ha! I use it on my cuticles sometimes in the winter." She poured a few drops into her palm and wordlessly Enlarged the puddle.

"So, how did you do that wordlessly?" Harry asked interestedly.

"I used a molecular-level impulse direction similar to _Geminio_," Luna replied.

"Okay."

She laughed. "Lie back down. You're supposed to be enjoying a massage, not a lecture on the physics of nonverbal magic."

Harry spent the next half-hour in ecstasy. He didn't like to think about how Luna might have acquired her massage skills, but he was enjoying said skills all the same. She dug out all of the tender spots in his neck and back, focusing with unmitigated glee on his arse – not that he complained. When she started massaging her way down his legs, he thought he might die of pleasure; as she worked her way back up to his shoulders, her ministrations became slower and more focused on caressing him than actually working out any kinks. Harry grinned. "Why do I get the feeling that you have an ulterior motive in offering me a massage?" he asked, his voice muffled by the pillow.

In answer to his question, Luna crawled back on top of him and removed her tee shirt, leaning over to press her naked breasts into his back. "You have good instincts," she purred. "Although, I don't know if I would call it an ulterior motive. I'm taking a multi-dimensional approach to saying 'I love you' today."

"I don't care what you call it," Harry groaned, luxuriating in the feel of her naked body pressed along his back. "It feels _fantastic_." She rolled next to him and reclined on her side, her skin glistening slightly with residual oil from the massage. He flipped over so they were facing each other and drew her close, enmeshing their bodies. "Come here," he said unnecessarily.

"Ooh!" She squeaked as he placed a warm hand on her glorious arse and squeezed gratuitously.

"Mmm." Harry rolled with her suddenly, so she was lying stretched out on top of him. Luna shifted so she was kneeling astride him once more, this time facing him. He relished the sight of her, rising above him in the bed with a faint shimmer to her skin and a look of wanton expectancy in her eyes. "Good morning, goddess."

"Who, me?"

"Yes, you." Harry couldn't resist reaching up to cup her rose-tipped breasts in his hands. "I love you."

"I love you, too." She bent to kiss him, heedless of morning breath. His hands moved up to cradle her face, thumbs stroking her cheeks gently. "Okay, let's fuck now."

"You're not in the mood for lovemaking?" Harry deadpanned.

"Nope. Lovemaking is great, but today, I require hardcore fucking."

There was something about the phrase "hardcore fucking" on Luna's lips that sent a filthy thrill through Harry, a thrill that drove him to throw her down on the bed and give her exactly what she asked for. "Well, in that case..." he rolled with her again, pinning her underneath him. Reaching down, he drew a finger almost casually through her soft folds, feeling the slick of moisture there. He drew in his breath with a hiss. "You're wet." Luna moaned in pleasure and thrust against his hand, encouraging him to continue touching her, which he did.

The sex was not tender, but it was satisfying. The steady, rhythmic slap of sweating skin on sweating skin became almost painful, but they both enjoyed the sensation, and added fingernails and teeth when the moment seemed to call for it. Feeling Luna's fingernails rake up his back as he came was one of the best feelings life had to offer, Harry decided. Afterward, they drifted off to sleep again, overwhelmed by blissful lassitude. For the first time in what seemed like a long time to Harry, everything was right with the world.

**A/N: Attention dudes: yes, this really is the rigmarole that a woman must endure to try on a wedding dress, never mind actually wearing the damn thing for a day. Ultimate humiliation? You betcha! **

**Please leave me a review and let me know what you think of Jacob Nott. Also, did I get Lucius right? **


	13. And Awry We Go

**A/N: Reviewers, please do **_**not**_** swear at me in your reviews. Ever. There is no call for that kind of disrespect.**

**This chapter is rated a hard M for liberally-sprinkled foul language, alcohol use, mild violence, and other surprises. You know, all the good stuff (yes, that too). Nothing triggering or overly heavy, but I like to be up-front about the fact that I'm a grown-up writing for other grown-ups. In spite of an increasingly stressful professional and personal life, and the fact that I have been unwell lately, I have still put a tremendous amount of effort into crafting this chapter. Dear reader, you are worth it. Please enjoy.**

**Chapter 13 – And Awry We Go (Or, The Best Laid Friends)**

George rolled over in bed and cracked an eyelid, half-hoping that Astoria would be next to him. Sadly, it was not so, but he couldn't be too disappointed; if all went well, he would wake up next to her soon enough.

Their dinner at the pub had been extremely enjoyable. Although she was in excellent shape, Astoria was apparently not the sort to worry overmuch about her diet, as evidenced by the huge plate of fish and chips she had devoured. The conversation had mostly revolved around George – how he got into business, what his life had been like, et cetera – until it devolved into a dissection of the possible private lives of their mutual ex-professors at Hogwarts. He snickered as he remembered a particularly amusing – and inaccurate – bit of Astoria's conjecture.

"_I think McGonagall and Dumbledore were lovers in secret."_

"_Bullshit. Dumbledore was gay. Grindelwald was his lover at one time, you know."_

"_I call bullshit on _that_. Whom was McGonagall fucking for all those years, then?"_

"_Flitwick, naturally." _

Although things had gone swimmingly, George had not been able to convince her to return with him to his loft, ostensibly for a "nightcap". All of his attempts had been met with a half-stern, half-teasing stare that said, _What, do I look stupid to you? _He wondered why she was such a hold-out; Verity had practically fallen into bed with him the first time he'd ever made eyes at her. Other women, too, had been easy preyfor the famous war hero, missing ear notwithstanding. _Well, either that, or I was prey for them. Whatever. I can't even remember any of their names. They were all the same._ Astoria's name, on the other hand, was on his mind. He pictured her loping away from The Burrow in her workout wear. _Heh. Ass-toria. So hot. So ridiculously hot. _

He groaned and scrubbed his palms over his face. _Ugh. Time to open, I guess. Verity, fuck you for punishing me by refusing to work Sundays._

XoXoXoXoXoX

Diagon Alley was quiet on Sunday mornings, even though most stores were open for business. Daphne was the only person in the salon when she walked in at 10 am, and the bored-looking stylist jumped up with alacrity, fixing her with a diamond-bright smile. "Good morning, good morning," the woman sang. "How may I be of service?"

"Breakup haircut," Daphne announced succinctly.

The stylist nodded immediately. She had spiky, short black hair with pink streaks, and a ring in her pert nose. "Got it. Come have a seat at the sink, and I'll wash you up."

It had been years since Daphne had last had a haircut, other than a trim here and there to tame any split ends. She had forgotten how much she liked having her hair washed by somebody else; it was almost as nice as having someone play with her hair. The stylist took her time, massaging Daphne's scalp and working the shampoo and conditioner right to the roots. Afterward, she towel-dried Daphne's hair and led her to her chair, fastening a cape around the blonde woman's front. "All right, what were you thinking?" she asked as she began combing Daphne's long, champagne-coloured hair.

"I'm honestly not sure," Daphne said. "I need a big change, I know that."

"How bad was the breakup?" Their eyes met in the mirror, one of the stylist's eyebrows raised in inquiry. Daphne suddenly decided that she liked the intuitive woman immensely.

"I asked him to marry me after six years and he said no."

"Ooh. That's harsh." The stylist sucked in a sympathetic breath. "Hmmm. I have an idea; how much creative license do I have?"

"Bring it," Daphne replied.

The woman started cutting.

XoXoXoXoXoX

Astoria's feet struck the pavement one after the other, setting the rhythm of her heart and thoughts. Wizarding London was having a particularly sleepy Sunday morning; it was already 10:30 by the time she started her morning run, but the streets were almost deserted. The advancing autumn had started the leaves turning, and the air was cool and foggy. _Good morning,_ she thought at the misty world around her. She wondered briefly what she would be doing at that moment if she'd gone home with George...

As always, running cleared her head and flooded her body with endorphins. She ran on and on, savouring her runner's high. Because of the fog, she did not see the two men in her path until it was too late to avoid them, and crashed headlong into the shorter of the two. His hands shot out to grip her upper arms, steadying her. "Oh, my gods, I am so sorry!" she panted, squinting at the men through the fog. Her eyes narrowed. "Oh, it's _you_. Never mind. I'm not sorry after all."

Blaise chuckled deeply. This time, he and Theo had not been stalking anyone – they were actually headed to a favourite coffeehouse, in search of a Sunday morning latté and croissant. "Astoria."

"Wow, Zabini, I'm impressed," Astoria snarked. "You're out of bed before three in the afternoon." She swiped a bead of sweat off her brow with the sleeve of her sweatshirt, glaring at them in turn. "Theo, brilliant performance at The Cauldron the other day. Take a hint: you need to leave my sister the fuck alone. She's done with you." Theo merely gaped at her, looking as though he were about to shit his pants.

"Oh, Astoria. Why do you have to be such a bitch all the time?" Blaise's question was amused, not angry. He cut his eyes at Theo. _Always saving your arse from your girlfriend's little sister, I am._

"I'm only a bitch to useless man-whores like you," Astoria growled back. "And to idiot fuck-ups like you," she added, jabbing a finger at Theo. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have much better things to do with my time." She threw both men a parting glare and flipped them the finger as she jogged off.

"You know, you really have your work cut out for you," Blaise told Theo conversationally as they resumed their walk to the coffeehouse. "If you want Daphne back, you're going to have to redeem yourself not only in her eyes, but in the eyes of her sister, and all of her friends."

Theo groaned. "I'm fucked, aren't I?"

"Probably. There's only one other thing you could try."

"What's that?"

"Make her jealous."

XoXoXoXoXoX

Monday morning, Luna came to the office with her mind fixed firmly on her work. She had dreamed about the object all night, waking with the decision that it was time to stop colouring so far outside the lines. If they were going to unravel any of the artefact's mysteries, they were going to have to truly exhaust the obvious first. She thought of Williamson's list again; she had read his report, looking for the common threads in the objects people saw, but there had been nothing. Perhaps it was time to get to know the people behind the objects better. Well, except for Harry. One corner of her mouth turned up in a wry grin as she recalled their latest lovemaking session. _No, it's safe to say I know Harry pretty well._

She had been turning an idea over in her head for awhile, ever since Harry had been unexpectedly pulled back to full-time Auror duties. He had disliked interacting with the object physically, as he found its properties unsettling; he had flatly refused to read it, stating that he did not want to know what was in its pages. Luna had come to the conclusion that it was critically important to find out its contents, but without Harry there to help her, there was no way to do so – unless Martin would be willing to let her take the object home.

She glanced at the clock. Daphne was 15 minutes late already – unusual for her. No one would give her any crap about it, but it was unusual. Luna tried not to worry, and decided to go see if Martin was available for a chat.

As it turned out, he was. Croaker looked up when Luna knocked on his open door, giving her what passed for a tired smile. He made Luna think of a badly-aged Sirius Black, without the dashing goatee. "Luna. Come in," he invited. She did, taking a seat on the low couch that served instead of chairs for visitors. "How are you, Clotho?"

"Still spinning," Luna remarked, eliciting the tickled wheeze that was Martin's laugh. "I'm fine, and you?"

"Still breathing," he replied. "Getting old and tired, but still breathing."

"Mmm." Luna tilted her head to the side thoughtfully as she regarded her boss. He was composed as ever, though surrounded by Wrackspurts. "I've come to ask a favour."

"Oh? What's that?"

"I want to take the object home."

Martin's brow creased. "Why?"

"I want Harry to read the book." Luna's silver-blue eyes held Martin's gaze steadily. "I'm going to transcribe it."

He leaned back in his chair, frowning at her. "I don't know about this, Luna. I'm still not convinced that this object poses no danger to us." He shook his head. "I don't think I can let you do this."

"All handling protocols will remain the same," Luna wheedled. "I won't touch it, I promise. Harry has to be the one handling it anyway. I just want to transcribe whatever may be written there." Seeing that she was working her charms on Martin, she smiled her most winning smile. "I also have another favour to ask of you, while we're at it."

Both of the man's grizzled eyebrows disappeared into his hairline. "Demanding little thing, aren't we?"

Luna laughed. "You'll like the second favour, I promise. Harry and I are getting married on New Year's Eve, and I was hoping you would give me away in my father's stead."

Martin's true smile erased twenty years from his countenance. "I would be honoured, my Clotho. My Fates are precious to me, you know that." Rising from his chair, he came around the desk and took a seat next to Luna, encasing her folded hands in his. "That is why I am reluctant to let you take that object home. I am wary of it, Luna, very wary. I would rather its mysteries remain unsolved than see you hurt."

"I know." Luna smiled sweetly at him. "Daphne and I have handled it this long with neither Harry's help, nor any accidents. I think we can do this safely, Martin. I wouldn't ask, otherwise."

A wheezy chuckle rumbled in his throat. "Heaven help the man."

"Help whom?"

"Harry, of course." Martin chuckled again. "He's never going to win an argument, so long as you keep batting those lashes."

Luna laughed again. "Does that mean you're saying yes?"

"Grudgingly." His expression became stern. "Keep your promise to me."

"I will. Thank you," she chirped.

XoXoXoXoXoX

Daphne arrived at work just as Luna was re-entering her office. When Luna saw her best friend, she let out a squeal. "Oh, my gods, you did it! You actually did it! Wow, you look so _different_!"

Daphne's hair had been cut into a centre-parted bob with a light, feathery fringe. The back of the bob fell only to the nape of her neck, and was gradually tapered around to the front, so that the hair fell halfway between her chin and shoulders. It was certainly a big change from the waterfall of straight blonde hair that she'd worn all her life; the fringe called attention to her huge brown eyes, and the shorter hair framed her beautiful face elegantly. She smiled uncertainly. "Sorry I'm late, it took me awhile to figure out how to style it. What do you think? I don't look like Pansy Parkinson, do I?"

"No, of course not!" Luna laughed. "You'd have to be at least four inches shorter and a whole lot uglier, inside and out. You look great, Daphne."

"Thanks." Daphne frowned at the object on Luna's desk. "What is that?"

Luna considered Daphne for a moment, but then her face lit up. "The object. It's changed, hasn't it?" She scrabbled in her desk for the well-worn, dog-eared copy of Williamson's report that she had saved, turning to the page that listed the various objects people had seen and skimming down the list. "You saw...a mirror, right?"

"That's the artefact? It _has_ changed," Daphne breathed, a look of wonder overtaking her. "It's not a mirror anymore."

"What is it now?" Luna asked.

One corner of Daphne's mouth twitched. "A wireless."

XoXoXoXoXoX

"This is fucking stupid," Proudfoot muttered. He, Harry, Ron, and Savage were doing a little reconnaissance of Malfoy Manor, hiding out in the hedges that surrounded the ancient mansion. "All we're going to see is Lucius Malfoy's bloody peacocks. The bastard isn't even out of prison yet."

"No, but his son and his wife are still free," Savage reminded him. "And Draco Malfoy's girlfriend is pregnant. He's a perfect mark for Jacob Nott's little scheme."

"I thought they weren't planning to take the children until they're two," Proudfoot objected.

"Nevertheless, you have to admit that Malfoy junior is vulnerable," Savage argued, referring to Draco. "He's always been a sucker for family duty and the rest of the Pureblood rhetoric, hasn't he?"

"Exactly. I don't trust him," Harry concurred.

Ron nodded his vehement agreement. "We went to school with the bloke, Proudfoot. We know what he's capable of." Proudfoot looked annoyed at being told what was what by two junior Aurors, but since Savage agreed with them, he backed off.

Suddenly, the door to Malfoy Manor opened, and Narcissa Malfoy stepped out. She was completely alone, wearing a set of plain black robes and carrying a small bag of birdseed. She settled on a low bench in the garden, throwing out handful after handful of feed to the birds flocking around her in a bright, garrulous knot. She did not smile at her avian charges; her face was pinched and sad.

"I wonder if she's thinking about all the people who suffered and died because of her and her stupid family," Ron muttered under his breath with a mean-spirited grin.

Harry aimed a sharp kick at his ankle. He wasn't sure why he felt suddenly protective of the woman, but his redheaded friend's obvious schadenfreude pissed him off. "Shut _up_, Ron," he hissed. "I'm alive in part because of her, you know." Ron goggled at him, but said nothing.

They waited a few minutes more, but nothing exciting happened. Narcissa emptied the bag of birdseed, Vanished it with her wand, and rose stiffly from the bench, making her way back to the house. Harry's heart was heavy as he watched her go. _She misses her husband_, he thought. He knew what it was to be lonely, and now that he'd tasted true love, he could not help but empathize.

"I don't think we're going to see anything today, boys," Proudfoot sighed. "We'd better head back to the office and plan our moves for tomorrow."

XoXoXoXoXoX

The blond prisoner stirred. His time as a captive had not killed him – yet. However, every time he heard footsteps nearing his cell, as now, he wondered if it were death tiptoeing outside. Sometimes, as now, he hoped for it; other times, he feared it; often, he waited in quiet despair. He lay curled on his left side on a ratty blanket spread on the cold stone floor, back to the door. Other than a bucket to shit in and an ewer of stagnant water, his cell boasted no other comforts – not even a window through which to ascertain the passage of night and day.

He did not turn to see who it was when the door to his cell opened. Heavy footfalls scraped over to him, and the guard kicked him hard about the kidneys, making him scream in pain. "Get up." The prisoner refused, still keening in agony, so the visitor crouched down and grabbed the man by his long, filthy blond hair, yanking upward sharply. "I said _get up_, wretch. You've got company." In terrible pain, the prisoner vomited his meagre stomach contents onto the guard's shoes, which only enraged the burly man further. He picked up the wasted prisoner by the shoulders and hauled him to his feet, heedless of his moans for mercy. Too weak to stand, the prisoner crumpled to the floor.

As he had with Lucius Malfoy, Jacob Nott paid a visit to the prisoner's cell, instead of the other way around. In Lucius's case, it had been because the man was in protective custody; it would have been unwise for him to leave the safety of his cell, even briefly. In this prisoner's case, it wasn't that he was being protected; rather, it was because the powers-that-be were not altogether aware of this man's presence in Azkaban. He was not supposed to be here.

Xenophilius Lovegood was supposed to be dead.

"Xenophilius. I'm so glad to see you." Nott circled the pile of limbs on the floor like a raptor about to swoop in for the kill. His icy blue eyes were keen on his prey. "I have need of your expertise, old friend."

"Go to Hell," the wasted man-heap gagged faintly.

Nott merely chuckled and crouched down next to him, ignoring the stench. "Oh, I would imagine I'll get there in good time," he replied, patting Xeno on the head as a doting grandmother might pat her favourite grandchild. "Until then, you're going to help me with a little project. I think you've got something I could use in that batty brain of yours."

"And if I won't?" Xeno snorted, a skeletal grin stretching the yellowed-parchment skin of his face. "I suppose you'll kill me."

"You have a daughter, remember, Xenophilius?" Incorporeal pain ripped through Xeno's chest at the mention of his beloved Luna; he relived the last time he saw her once again. Nott saw the ripples of emotion, his gaze sharpening as he scented blood in the water. "Luna is a lovely young witch, and just about to be married, I hear."

"Don't you touch her!" Xeno yelled hoarsely.

"Calm yourself, old friend. I have no intention of harming her if I get what I want. All I seek is information. You can save her so easily, don't you see? You've helped me before, Xeno. Why don't you help us all now?"

Xeno closed his eyes and dropped his head to rest on the floor. He was so tired.

"I dunno, Mr. Nott. I don't think he's giving anything up," the guard chimed in doubtfully. "Why don't I get some Veritaserum from the –"

"Don't be stupid," Nott interrupted impatiently. "You'd have to sign it out of the dispensary, and there's no way they'll give it to you without an order from the Wizengamot. I haven't got anyone in there yet, and interrogating prisoners without a Wizengamot order is _illegal_, remember?" His scathing tone left little doubt as to his view of the law. "No, I have a better idea. Give me your wand, Cunningham."

The guard handed over his wand to Nott reluctantly. "What are you going to –"

"Shut _up_, Cunningham." Nott aimed the wand at Xenophilius. "_Imperio_."

XoXoXoXoXoX

"This isn't going to work, mate," Theo groaned. "She won't even talk to me. There's no way she's going to let me buy her a drink."

Blaise merely grinned and stirred the cauldron in front of him. Curlicues of scented steam wafted from the opalescent brew within.

XoXoXoXoXoX

"Anyway, like I said, they've got a cracking live band scheduled tonight at Fizzbeard's," Daphne mentioned to Penny and Luna at lunch. The boys (and Hermione) were out in the field all day, so it was just the three of them. "I say we get Astoria after work and go out for a girl's night tonight."

"On a weeknight?" Penny frowned.

"Nobody's going to get drunk, Penny. I'm just talking about a good time," Daphne protested. "We'll just have a few drinks."

"That's what you said last time," Luna reminded her cheerfully. "If I recall, that 'good time' ended with me pumping you full of potions and Astoria holding your hair for you while you barfed."

"That's not true. She put my hair in a ponytail and rubbed my back for me while I barfed."

The three friends laughed. Luna smiled happily at her best friend. _You're back,_ she thought. "All right, but can we make it a big group night out? I'd kind of like to take Harry out for a night on the town, too. He doesn't get out enough. Besides, it will be a good opportunity for a certain bridesmaid and groomsman to get to know each other, if you know what I mean."

Daphne grinned and winked lewdly at her. "Yeah, sure. Why not?"

XoXoXoXoXoX

They were a large group indeed: Daphne, Astoria, Luna, Harry, Ron, Hermione, George, Lee, and Penny piled through the door of Fizzbeard's Bar at 8 pm, ready to blow off the day's steam and have a bit of fun.

"I've never been here before," Penny remarked, looking around at the darkened room. The dance floor was already packed, and a pop-funk quintet had taken the stage, blasting out beats that made them all want to dance.

"All right, drinks first, or dancing first?" George asked, speaking unnaturally loudly to be heard over the pounding music.

"I have to drink before I dance, otherwise you won't get me up there," Daphne remarked.

"I'll be right back, then," Lee called, heading to the bar.

"Ooh, he really likes you," Luna squealed. Astoria stuck her little finger in her ear and wiggled it around comically, as though Luna had deafened her.

"What about you, kitten?" George said in Astoria's other ear. "Drink?"

"Firewhiskey, neat." She turned to give him a flirtatious glance. "Thanks."

"My pleasure, I hope," George deadpanned. Astoria rolled her eyes and scoffed, but she couldn't help smiling.

Harry, Luna, Ron, and Hermione scouted out a table for the group. They had arrived relatively early, and were lucky enough to find one, but Hermione had to Engorge it with her wand to make room for everyone, duplicating chairs as necessary. "You're handy to have around, love," Ron remarked, kissing her on the cheek.

"I know," Hermione responded confidently. Harry and Luna shared a knowing glance and a laugh.

"What's so funny?" Lee asked, coming up behind them with a drink in each hand and Daphne next to him.

"Oh, nothing," Luna giggled.

The night progressed rather agreeably from there. Everyone decided to have a drink or two, and sat around the large table talking and laughing. In all the noise and excitement, no one noticed Blaise and Theo slip into the bar.

"All right, mate, you ready?" Blaise grinned, showing Theo the little phial in his hand.

"I guess," Theo said doubtfully. "Are you sure this is going to work?"

"One way to find out. Go get a drink, whatever she likes," Blaise instructed. "Put a few drops of the Amortentia in it, and she'll be putty in your hands. Then go find a girl to hit on, and watch her come to you!"

"What happens when it wears off?"

"By then, she'll be all yours. It'll be easy," Blaise assured him. "Don't worry, Theo. This is going to work perfectly. Trust me."

XoXoXoXoXoX

Having decided to go to the bar alone on an impulse, Verity stood at the bar, watching George and Astoria flirting on the dance floor. She had suspected that George had been seeing someone else for awhile – he hadn't sent a booty owl in ages – and now her suspicious were confirmed. She sipped grumpily on her drink, observing how the young woman danced extra-close to her redheaded partner, throwing him sultry looks and suggestive smiles. George was clearly enthralled, and obviously trying to sneak a peek down his companion's silver-grey dress, not that he had to try very hard.

_Well_, she thought. _That explains everything._ Verity knew that she and George had deliberately kept things casual, neither of them wanting commitment, but she also didn't want it to end. She really liked George, she liked their arrangement, and most of all, she'd reckoned that one day, when they were both ready, it would become something more. Now little miss slag in the silver dress was going to ruin everything. She decided to take action: she squared her shoulders, downed her beverage in a single gulp, and abandoned her empty glass on the bar before making her way over to the dancing couple.

Theo also stood nervously at the bar, watching Daphne dance with a man whom he vaguely recognized from Hogwarts, although he couldn't remember his name. He had secretly followed his ex-girlfriend from her apartment to the bar, although he had almost missed her because she looked so different. She had cut her hair, and she was wearing a scandalously short, sleeveless dress in blazing Gryffindor red, of all things. He had never seen her wear such a colour – and indeed, the old Daphne never would have dared – but this was Daphne reborn.

He burned with jealousy as she laughed at something the dark-skinned man yelled in her ear, their bodies moving in time to the music. _That should be me,_ he thought. They were meant to be...except that while Daphne often wanted to go out and have fun, Theo was much more inclined to stay home. When she just wanted to cuddle, he wanted sex. She was a chocoholic, and he loved salty things. In fact, the more he thought about it, the more getting back together seemed like a bad idea. It was just too big a mess to ever be cleaned up. Besides, if he had to stalk and drug Daphne in order to get her to talk to him, it had to be wrong, he decided. The Amortentia would work for awhile, but then what? Never mind what Blaise predicted; Theo knew she would be even angrier at him when it wore off, and deservedly so. Besides – as much as it hurt him to admit it, she looked like she was doing just fine without him. _Why am I being so insane? I can move on, too,_ he thought resolutely.

He looked around for Blaise to tell him the plan was off, but it looked as though his friend was busy entertaining a petite blonde with expressive eyes and massive tits. _Typical_, Theo thought with a frown. His eyes flickered to Astoria and some redheaded guy, where a short, angry-looking brunette had just interrupted their dance by yelling at the couple and shoving Astoria out of her way. She grabbed the carrot-top by his remaining ear and kissed him once, hard, on the mouth. Astoria just stood back, watching this all with a raised eyebrow and unreadable expression, eyes glittering dangerously. Theo involuntarily held his breath, waiting to see what the spitfire pixie would do. She did not disappoint; as soon as the tiny brunette came up for air, Astoria brushed her aside, grabbed carrots by the collar, and kissed him long and hard. The poor man appeared to be in a state of shock, but he responded to Astoria's kiss by wrapping his arms around her and snogging her most thoroughly. After a few moments, she broke the kiss and yelled something at the shorter woman over the music. Theo was good at reading lips – he had some hearing loss from a fever he'd had as a small boy – and he was close enough to make out what Astoria said: _Did he kiss _you_ back?_

Her challenger turned and fled the dance floor, eyes full of tears. She was kind of cute, and obviously miserable, and Theo felt a bit sorry for her. He put both drinks down on the bar and reached out to stop the woman with a gentle touch on the arm. "Excuse me," he yelled over the music. "Are you all right?" She shook her head mutely and made to brush past him, but he stepped into her path, stopping her. "I saw what happened."

"Please leave me alone," she hollered back.

"Fine. Have it your way." Theo raised his palms in a placating gesture. "I just wanted to buy you a drink. You look like you could use one."

She glanced at the bar where Theo stood, grabbed both Firewhiskeys – including the one spiked with Amortentia – and downed them one after the other before he could stop her. In a matter of moments, a dreamy, faraway look stole over her features; she sighed, her brown eyes gazing into Theo's crystal-blue ones with puppy-dog sweetness. _Oh, fuck me sideways,_ he thought.

"Say," she drawled, "Do you know Blaise Zabini?"

XoXoXoXoXoX

"Did you _see_ that?" Ron gaped at the dance floor, where Astoria had grabbed his brother by the arm and was dragging him off the dance floor. "Did you _see_?"

"I think the whole bar saw that, Ron," Hermione replied.

Harry and Luna exchanged a grin. She took advantage of the eye contact to send him a message using Legilimency: _Mission accomplished._

"My goodness, you all have very interesting lives," Penny remarked. "I really need to get a social life, starting now." She stood up, straightening her black skirt. "I don't care if I dance by myself, it looks like fun. Or danger, I'm not sure which."

"You look nice tonight, Penny," Luna told her. It was true; she had charmed her brown curls into perfect spirals, and the electric-blue blouse she was wearing lit up her sky-coloured eyes. "I don't think you'll be dancing alone for long." Penny smiled shyly at Luna over her shoulder as she joined Daphne and Lee on the dance floor. Before long, Luna and Hermione dragged their men over as well, and the friends completely forgot that Astoria and George had vanished.

XoXoXoXoXoX

Theo marched the tiny, Amortentia-addled woman in his charge up to the bar, where Blaise was now seducing a random redhead. "Excuse us," he said half-heartedly, jerking his friend away by the arm.

"What the hell, Theo?" Blaise scowled. "I'm busy."

Theo ignored him. "This is Blaise Zabini," he told the dark-haired woman loudly.

"I'm Verity," she breathed. She flung herself at Blaise and began climbing all over him, planting kisses on any piece of skin she could reach.

"Congratulate yourself, arsehole," Theo hollered. "Your little plan worked perfectly."

"What the hell happened, Theo?" Blaise accused. "Fuck. Shit. Shitfuck. I must've brewed it wrong. What the fuck are we going to do?" He paused to push Verity's face out of the way with one palm. "Erm, Miss? Do you think you could just –"

"Shut up and kiss me," Verity growled, pulling Blaise's face down to hers by the ears.

"Is there an antidote for Amortentia?" Blaise was struggling desperately to disentangle himself from the woman's clutches, to no avail.

"Oh, for Salazar's sake, Blaise, we have to get her out of here!" Theo grabbed each of them by the arm and dragged them toward the exit.

"And take her where?"

"Home with you. You're the one who botched the brew, you're the one who's going to clean up this mess." They had finally reached the street. Theo steered them in the direction of Blaise's place, which was within walking distance. "At least we know she'll come willingly!"

XoXoXoXoXoX

Astoria dragged George all the way to the hallway by the lavatories to have a private conversation. The thud of the music was scarcely reduced, but George could hear Astoria just fine. "Mind telling me what the fuck that was about?"

"It's...really complicated, Astoria." George rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, afraid to meet her snapping brown eyes. "That was Verity. She works in my shop. We've been...erm..."

"Fucking?" she supplied haughtily.

"I was going to say 'friends with benefits'," George corrected. "We've been friends with benefits for a long time. Honestly, that's all it is. I had no idea she was...erm...whatever..."

"She's in love with you, George." Astoria stood her ground, staring him down coldly.

George made a strangled noise. "I didn't know that! Anyway, _I'm_ not in love with _her_!" _I'm in love with you!_

"That's nice." Astoria did not look impressed. "When, exactly, were you going to tell her that you'd met somebody else?"

George's stomach flip-flopped. _What did she just say? _"Astoria, please listen to me. I really like you, but I didn't know you felt the same way." He pressed in on her, reversing their usual power dynamic, dropping his lips to within inches of hers. "I'm going to break it off with Verity tomorrow, I promise. Just – please don't go?"

"Are you asking me not to do something, or are you asking me to do something?" Astoria murmured. Her whiskey-tinged breath tickled his lips, intoxicating him. "You're usually so good at stating the obvious. If you want something from me, George Weasley, you're going to have to ask for it."

"Be with me?"

"Just for tonight?"

"We'll start there."

That seemed to be enough for Astoria. She closed the infinitesimal distance between them, brushing her lips against his tantalizingly. George thought he might explode if he didn't get her home right then. By unspoken agreement, he Side-Along Apparated both of them to his loft and tossed her down onto the bed.

She pulled him down roughly, holding him close and digging her nails into his back through his shirt. He shivered and chuckled. "Ooooh. Kitten has claws."

Astoria rolled with him so she was on top, ripping his button-down shirt open and running her hands over his chest. He wasn't a particularly muscular guy, tending more toward tall and skinny, but she seemed to like what she saw, anyway. She paused for a minute to shuck her short silver-grey dress over her head, revealing a simple black bra and black cotton boy-short knickers. She was exactly as taut and lean as she had appeared under her workout wear, and her fair skin was creamy blue-white in the semi-darkness. She took down her bra, and her porcelain-pink nipples made his mouth water. "Oh gods," George breathed. "You're perfect."

She tossed the bra aside and picked up his hands, placing them on her breasts. "Touch me," she breathed. He obliged, running his broad, warm palms all over her body.

"You feel so good," he told her.

"Just wait," she promised.

**A/N 2.0 – Word 2007 does not flag the word "chocoholic" as a spelling error (at least in Canadian English), but it does flag "snogging". Who knew? **


	14. Walk of Shame

**A/N: Sorry that you have all waited so long for this update. I don't have an excuse, but I do have a reason: I deal with chronic illness as part of my day-to-day life. It flares and gets better, and it flared rather badly from the beginning of March until recently. Between feeling like crap, working full-time, parenting, being too sick to work for about a month, and then a small bout of creative block, I wasn't feeling very "writey". I didn't want to just write something – anything – and throw it out there. To do so would be a disservice, both to the work itself, and to you lovely people who take the time to read it. So I worked at it, chewed on it, tweaked it, and let it simmer in my mind. Here are the results, finally. Enjoy.**

**Also, I must give a massive thanks and shout-out to ****Ranmyaku Kiritsu**** , who left the following gem in my PM inbox:**

"Oh Quirksnquills-! Where hast thou gone? Hast thine soul fled from thine body, or be'est thine inspiration-?! Let it not be'est so~!"

**Now, I think this is the loveliest way to say, "Hey Quirks, where my bitches at? Are you dead? Please don't tell me you've got writer's block again!" This gave me the kick in the ass I needed to get this done and out there. Thank you for your sweet inquiry, love. - QnQ**

**Chapter 14 – Walk of Shame (Or, the Heir on the Back of Your Neck) **

"Hey, where are we? I do hope we're at your house, gorgeous," Verity told Blaise, pressing a kiss to his neck. She was riding piggy-back on the coffee-skinned man, with Theo walking behind them. The dark, rain-slicked streets were nearly deserted, but Theo still thought he might die of embarrassment.

"You're in luck," Blaise growled. "Fuck, Theo, why didn't we just Apparate?"

"I didn't think of it until now." Theo's baritone was cracked and weary from yelling over music (and yelling at Blaise). "Is there an antidote for Amortentia?"

"I thought you would know," Blaise groaned. He un-warded his front door and let them all inside. "If there is one, I don't know how to brew it."

Verity seemed to be completely oblivious to the men's conversation. "Show me to the bedroom, lover," she purred in Blaise's ear, giggling. She dismounted and gave his arse a hearty pinch, eliciting a startled, pained yelp.

Theo shrugged. "Your bedroom is as good a place as any," he remarked.

Blaise glared, but did not protest. "Come with me, erm, _lover_," he told the short, dark-haired witch, taking her hand to avoid having it roam anywhere else on his body. He led them all up the stairs to his room, which boasted a king-sized bed and oak furnishings, all dressed in Slytherin green. When they got there, Verity immediately started removing her clothing. Blaise and Theo shared a startled glance that said, _Oh, Merlin, now what?_

"Get her closer to the bed," Theo muttered to Blaise.

"How?" Blaise whispered back.

Theo glared in response, as if to say, _How the_ _fuck do you think? Get in there!_

Blaise closed his eyes momentarily and sighed through his nose, screwing up his resolve. "Erm. Hey, _lover_, wait for me!"

As Theo watched, his friend took a half-naked Verity in his arms and started snogging her, which she returned with vigour. With one eye cracked open, Blaise started backing her closer and closer to the bed. Theo waited until they were almost sitting on it, then pulled his wand and took aim. _"Petrificus Totalus!" _

Verity fell across the bed, stiff and unmoving. "Oh, thanks for that," Blaise gasped, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. "She kisses like a Dementor."

"Okay, we have to think. How the hell are we going to get our hands on an antidote?" Theo moaned, shoving his wand back into its pocket. "There's only one person I can think of."

"Slughorn?"

"Get serious."

Blaise narrowed his almond-shaped eyes. "Who, then?"

Theo collapsed into a cross-legged heap on the floor and buried his face in his hands. "Astoria. She's brilliant at potions."

"Are you _mad_? There's _no fucking way_ she'll help you. There is, however, an excellent chance she'll rip off both our heads and cram them up our arses for us." Blaise shook his head as he contemplated their dire situation, glancing up with a hopeful look on his face as an idea occurred. "Wait, what about Lovegood? She's a Ravenclaw. This sort of shit is her bag, innit?"

"Luna?" Theo glanced up, too. "Yeah, she's probably good at potions. She might know."

"Anything's better than asking Astoria." Blaise opened a desk drawer and handed a quill and parchment to Theo. "Here. Draft up your most eloquent correspondence; we'll send my owl."

XoXoXoXoXoX

"Oh, my goodness," Luna wheezed. She, Harry, and Penny had returned to the table from the dance floor, out of breath and laughing. "I don't think I'm allowed to have this much fun on weeknights."

"I don't think I've _ever_ had this much fun," Penny said. "Next time you plan one of these nights out, I'm in." She glanced down at her watch. "It's late, though. We've got to work tomorrow."

"True." Luna glanced around. "I wonder where Astoria and George got to."

Harry grinned. "Now that you mention it, I haven't seen either of them since Verity's little scene," he remarked.

"Uh-oh." Penny smiled sweetly. "I do hope George survives."

Lee, Daphne, Hermione, and Ron joined them at the table soon afterward, and everyone had one last drink before leaving for the night. When Luna and Harry finally exited the bar, they were immediately greeted by a grumpy-looking, rain-sodden eagle owl with a scroll tied to his leg, which he held out to Luna with an evil expression. Once relieved of his burden, the owl wasted no time in fleeing the scene. "I wonder what this is about," Luna remarked as she unrolled the parchment. "Oh," she giggled. "Oh dear."

"What?" Harry held out a hand for the parchment, which she handed over without further comment.

_Luna, _

_Theo here. I'm in a really bad spot, and I don't have anyone else to call on. Can you bring the antidote for Amortentia to Blaise's house right away? I'll explain when you get here._

A posh address followed the hastily-scribbled message.

"What in hell?" Harry handed the note back with a snigger. "Do you know where this is?"

Luna shook her head. "Not exactly, but I think it's close to Astoria's. We can Apparate and try _Point Me_ from there. Something tells me this is a get-Daphne-back plan gone wrong. Theo's not one to ask for help unless he really needs it, which he probably does, if he's been listening to Blaise. Might explain what's gotten into him lately." She waved a hand at her own half-drunk babbling. "In any case, Theo's in for some bad news. The antidote for Amortentia takes three weeks to brew. Too bad George's shop isn't open. They sell love potions, I'm sure he'd have an antidote handy."

"I'd hate to disturb him just now," Harry demurred with a wicked grin. "He's busy. Would a bezoar work instead?"

"Only if they brewed the Amortentia wrong enough to _also_ be poisonous."

"Gods, I hope not." He frowned briefly, but then a calculating look came over Harry's clear-drawn features, igniting a mischievous light behind his green eyes. "Gives me an idea, though. St. Mungo's. They likely have the antidotes for most love potions. But if we take them there, they'll have to explain themselves. Dosing people is illegal, you know - it just rarely gets reported."

"So you're going to arrest them, then." Luna's silver-blue eyes sparkled at him knowingly.

"Oh, no," he replied lightly, tucking her tiny dove of a hand into the crook of his elbow for Side-Along Apparition. "I just want to threaten it." They grinned at each other broadly before they disappeared.

XoXoXoXoXoX

Luna and Harry arrived at Blaise's front door after less than ten minutes of searching. Luna had barely knocked twice before the door swung open. Theo and Blaise were clustered behind it, looking anxious. "Luna, thank Merlin you're...oh. Potter." Theo looked unimpressed to see his saviour's fiancé in tow. "Why are _you_ here?"

"Package deal, Nott," Harry informed him. "I don't let my future wife visit strange men alone, and you definitely qualify."

"Do you have the antidote?" Blaise demanded. "Please tell me you have it!"

"You both seem to be fine." Harry crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the wall, making an ostentatious show of glaring suspiciously. Blaise and Theo shot twin scowls his way, ignoring the question.

"Who's it for, Blaise?" Luna asked gently.

"Some chick," he admitted reluctantly, still bristling at Harry's presence. "I can't remember her name. She's upstairs." He jerked his head once in the direction of the stairs.

Luna and Harry shared a glance, unable to smother the laughter that bubbled up between them. "Bad news, Blaise," Luna informed him. "It looks like you're going to have a houseguest for a while."

"What the hell do you _mean_?" Blaise choked, horrified.

"The antidote for Amortentia isn't something I keep in my medicine chest," Luna replied. "I'll be happy to brew it for you, but it takes three weeks. If that doesn't suit you, you could always take her to St. Mungo's and explain yourself to the Mediwitches. I'm sure they've got the antidote."

Blaise and Theo shared a brief, panicked glance before the voluble curses and recriminations started flying.

"You're a complete fuckup, you know that? _Why_ did I listen to you?"

"_I'm_ a fuckup? _You're_ the one who–"

"Oi, let me see the woman," Harry demanded, yelling to be heard. "I want to make sure she's all right."

"What's it to you, Potter?" Blaise snarled. "Got a craving to be a hero again?"

"Got a job to do as an Auror," Harry corrected. "So far, you've confessed to dosing and kidnapping this woman. The proper place for her is St. Mungo's, and I plan to make sure she gets there. I _will_ arrest you if you don't show me where she is and prove that she is otherwise okay, _right_ _now_."

Blaise was tempted to argue, but thought the better of it; he was watched carefully by the Aurors as a result of his former associations, so St. Mungo's was definitely _not_ an option if he wanted to remain free and relatively un-harassed. He spun on his heel without a word and led Harry and Luna upstairs, Theo following along behind. When Harry and Luna saw just who was lying across Blaise's bed, they both laughed uproariously.

"Should I tell him?" Luna struggled to speak between peals of laughter. Harry nodded, so she continued. "I may have a quicker solution to your problem, Blaise."

"What?" Blaise could hardly contain himself. "What is it?"

"George Weasley sells love potions in his shop. If anyone would have an antidote handy, he would. But the shop's closed 'til tomorrow."

"I fail to see how that's helpful, Loveg -"

"You're saying you could get it tonight, though, aren't you?" Theo interrupted, looking hopeful. "Weasley's a friend of yours."

"Verity _is_ his employee, so I'm sure he'd help her at any hour," Luna remarked, gesturing at the supine woman on the bed.

"Problem is, we haven't seen George since he left the bar with Astoria," Harry finished. He darted a wicked grin at Theo, who looked as though he might throw up.

"Do what you have to do, Lovegood," Blaise directed, taking over for his quaking friend. "I'm not keeping this broad in my bedroom overnight. She'll suck my soul out through my mouth."

Luna complied, pulling out her wand to send an ethereal Thestral in the direction of Diagon Alley. "We'll give them five minutes' warning," she explained to no one in particular. Theo groaned.

"I don't suppose you'd care to share how this all happened." Harry wiped tears of mirth from his eyes, turning to the tall, blue-eyed man. "I might even be convinced that you've been punished enough, and overlook the illegal dosing..."

XoXoXoXoXoX

When Luna's Patronus arrived in George's bedroom, he and Astoria were so focused on the task at hand (that is, foreplay), they did not notice its presence until it spoke. _"This is your five minute warning Thestral,"_ Luna's voice announced, startling Astoria so badly that she leapt of off George with a shriek, reflexively pulling the sheet up to cover herself. _"We need to come over to get an emergency remedy for Amortentia," _the Thestral continued. _"It really can't wait. I'll explain when I get there."_

"For fuck's sake," Astoria fumed, slightly embarrassed at her reaction to the unexpected interruption.

George scowled. "Luna's lucky she's...well, Luna. If it were anybody else..."

"If it had been anybody else, they probably wouldn't have bothered with the courtesy of a Patronus," Astoria finished for him. "Pass me my bra?"

XoXoXoXoXoX

Luna and Harry Apparated from Blaise's place to the doors of George's shop. Luna made sure to bang extra loudly on the locked doors; a few moments later, George came down the stairs, wearing his plaid terrycloth robe and holding his lit wand aloft. "Luna, this had better be good," he warned, adding, "I'm _entertaining_ at the moment," under his breath.

"I know, I'm sorry," Luna whispered back. "I wouldn't ask, except that it's for Verity."

George's expression changed from one of disgruntlement to one of wary disapprobation. "Verity? What's going on?"

"Theo and Blaise were at the bar tonight. They cooked up a plan to slip Daphne some Amortentia, but it didn't go very well," Harry related with a grin. "Verity somehow got the drink that was intended for Daphne, and the Amortentia was brewed wrong, so she started crawling all over Blaise instead of Theo. They had to Petrify her to get her off of him."

George stared at them, completely expressionless, for five full seconds before he cracked. He threw his head back and whooped with laughter. "I'll be right back." He disappeared into the stockroom, returning with a small bottle containing an evil-looking brown liquid. "Here. This should do the trick. Now leave, will you?"

"We're going," Luna sang, depositing the bottle in her purse with a charming grin. "Sorry. Thanks. 'Bye!" She grabbed Harry by the arm and beat a hasty retreat.

George locked the doors behind them and vaulted back up the stairs to his room. "Now, where did we leave off?" he called. To his chagrin, there was no sign of Astoria. Her clothes were missing from his floor, and she wasn't in the bathroom. A quick check of every corner of the loft proved that she wasn't there. By the time he found the note on his pillow, George was more pissed off than he could remember being in a long time. He heaped abuse on the absent Theodore Nott as he unfolded the note.

_George,_

_I heard you three talking downstairs. I have something I need to do on my sister's behalf. It can't wait. I'll come back as soon as I possibly can. _

_Astoria_

He crumpled the note angrily, letting it drop to the floor. "What, no 'thanks for a great evening'? Or, 'enjoyed the almost-shag, owl me sometime'?" He kicked the wadded-up parchment into a corner. _I can't believe I fell for it _again_. _

XoXoXoXoXoX

Luna was so startled by the loud banging from Blaise's front door that she almost dropped the bottle of antidote. She quirked an eyebrow at Blaise, who got up with an annoyed expression and disappeared down the stairs. "Okay, Verity," she murmured soothingly to the restrained woman, sitting on the edge of the bed. "Harry's going to release the spell, and then we're going to have a little drink before you and Blaise have some private time, all right?"

"_Finite incantatem,"_ Harry said, pointing his wand at Verity. She sat up, looking vaguely confused.

"Luna, Harry, what are you doing here? Where did Blaise go?" Her wild eyes settled on Theo.

"He's coming right back. Drink that bottle, it's an aphrodisiac," Theo invented, fixing her with a shaky, unconvincing smile.

"Ooh, really? Give it here!" Verity tipped the foul-looking liquid down her throat eagerly. In an instant, the dreamily vacant expression in her eyes vanished, and she reached for a pillow to cover herself, blinking rapidly. At the same moment, raised, angry voices rang out suddenly from the front hallway, startling them all. "Merlin, what the fuck is going on? Why am I mostly naked?"

"You accidentally drank some Firewhiskey that was spiked with Amortentia," Luna explained quickly. She gestured at the lanky brunet leaning in the corner. "This is Theo – he and Blaise got you out of the bar and called me for help. I managed to get the antidote for you from George."

"George. Oh, no. Oh, fuck, this is embarrassing." Verity bent her head, hiding her flaming cheeks behind a curtain of straight mahogany hair.

"Don't worry about it, Verity," Harry soothed.

"Erm, do you mind if I get dressed now?" She reached for her blouse.

"Oh, yeah. We'll give you some privacy." Luna stood up and took Harry's hand, leading him toward the sound of conflict in the front hall. Theo followed in Luna and Harry's wake, pausing to glance back once at the bedraggled, dazed witch sitting on Blaise's bed. She really was kind of cute.

XoXoXoXoXoX

"You sick son of a bitch." Astoria was nose-to-nose with Blaise in the entryway, not able to contain herself any longer. "I heard all about the little plan you cooked up with Theo. I want you to listen to me very carefully, because this is the _last fucking time_ I am going to warn y-"

"Don't threaten me, little Greengrass," Blaise interrupted scornfully, the left side of his upper lip curling with contempt.

Another witch probably would have slapped Blaise across the face, or pulled out her wand and hexed him; being Astoria, she punched him twice instead. One lily-white fist socked him in the stomach, making him double over breathlessly. The other fist took advantage of the downward motion of his face by driving upward into his nose. Blaise collapsed to his knees, pressing both hands against his bleeding face. "Ever wonder what I do for a living?" Astoria asked conversationally. As Blaise could only wheeze in response, she continued on without waiting for an answer. "I teach people hand-to-hand combat! Worked out shitty for you, didn't it?"

At that moment, Theo and the others reached the scene. "Merlin, Greengrass, what the fuck?" Theo hollered. He rushed to his best friend's aid, attempting to pick up the wounded wizard from the floor.

"You're next, arsehole," Astoria roared, grabbing Theo by his shirtfront and slamming him against the nearest wall. "I warned you both to stay away from my sister. You are a useless twat _and_ a stalker, you know that? " Her knee drove into his crotch. He crumpled in a whinging ball on the floor, writhing next to his bleeding friend.

"Holy hell," Harry whispered in Luna's ear. They were watching from a safe distance, standing at the foot of the stairs. "Should I step in?"

She shook her head at him. "I wouldn't," she whispered serenely.

"Stay. Away. From my sister." Each bitten-off sentence fragment was punctuated with a kick to an arse – one for Blaise, two for Theo. Having beaten her point into the two men at last, Astoria stalked over to where Luna and Harry were standing. Harry burst into applause. "Thank you, thank you," she said, sketching a little curtsey.

"Bravo," Harry cheered.

Astoria grinned and turned to walk out the front door, stepping over Theo and Blaise, who were still writhing on the floor. "I'm done here. I'll see you later, yeah?"

"See you later," Luna and Harry echoed in unison. Neither Blaise nor Theo protested as Astoria made her exit.

Verity came out from her hiding place in the shadows at the top of the stairs. "Wow," she commented, fingering the top button of her blouse. "That girl is scary."

XoXoXoXoXoX

Astoria Apparated just outside the doors of George's shop. There were no lights burning that she could see, so she knocked loudly on the door. A light flickered to life in an upper window, but no shadowy figure came down the stairs to let her in. After a moment, she knocked again, but there was still no response. She looked up in time to see a bright head dart out of view in the window; frustrated, she used her wand to send a shower of green sparks ricocheting off the windowpane, to no avail. "Dammit, George," she muttered under her breath. He was obviously angry with her, and she found to her surprise that the realization made her heart pound unpleasantly. She tightened her grip on her ebony wand and screwed her eyes shut, searching for her best memory.

XoXoXoXoXoX

The ephemeral robin redbreast fluttered silently through George's window, landing weightlessly on his knee. "I've never cast a talkie before, so I hope it works," Astoria's voice said. "I'm not going away, so please open the door?"

George debated, ambivalent. Angry as he was with Astoria for leaving so abruptly, he had to admit that he was elated she had come back. He'd thought she was blowing him off – he hadn't thought _as soon as possible_ meant _later_ _tonight_. Tired as he was of games, he also liked to win; he had the upper hand at the moment, and he was reluctant to let it go. Eventually, he decided on a compromise. He rose from his seat on the bed and threw open the window, sticking his head out. "Why should I?" he called to the street below.

Astoria's head cocked back, her dark eyes lifting up to his hazel-brown ones. "Let me in and I'll show you," she called back.

George made an obvious show of his reticence as he came down the stairs, clad only in his bathrobe and boxer shorts. "I'm surprised you came back," he told her, swinging the door inward to admit her. She did not reply, so he just turned and climbed the stairs again, leaving her to follow. When they reached the loft, she grabbed his hand and pulled him to face her.

"You really thought I was making an excuse to ditch you." Her tone was incredulous, but gentle.

George pulled away and moved to the kitchen, where he began making tea manually. He could have let the tea make itself with a simple spell, but he needed something to do with his hands (and something other than Astoria to look at). She hopped up next to him on the counter, and he inwardly cursed her physical proximity. He didn't have to be looking at her to want to shag her; to him, she was one of those women who unconsciously radiated sex at all times.

"I'm sorry. I left for a good reason. "

"Which was?"

"I went to beat the shit out of Blaise and Theo for trying to dose Daphne."

"That _is_ a good reason." He smiled in spite of himself, but still did not turn to face her.

She pulled out her wand and muttered an incantation over the tea, which began preparing itself, neatly depriving George of his distraction. "Look at me," she invited, her tone gentle, yet compelling.

He found himself hypnotized by Astoria's voice; it was not quite as deep as her sister's, but still rich and musical. He looked up at her and instantly regretted it – her brown eyes had gone soft and doe-like again. Before he knew what was happening, he found himself standing between her open legs as she sat on the counter. His palms slid up her thighs, pushing the silver-grey dress higher and higher. "I like tough girls," he confessed.

"Want me to beat you up?" she breathed, arms entwined around his neck. George nodded, so she wrapped her legs around his waist, letting him hoist her off the counter and carry her to the bed.

XoXoXoXoXoX

"Tell me where she is, Xeno," Jacob Nott encouraged.

"I don't know." The blond man's voice was dreamy and distant, his tone flat.

Nott was surprised by the blond man's mental discipline – he was fighting hard against the Imperius curse, even after a year of imprisonment designed to break him. "Yes, you do."

"Pandora knew. Pandora is dead." Xeno's face crumpled, but he could not cry. His silver-blue eyes were eerily empty, miserable and lost. "She died a long time ago."

"Yes, I know, poor thing, but..." Nott circled him, still holding Cunningham's wand loosely in his right hand. His sharp blue eyes narrowed as he intensified the spell; he probed along the seams of Xeno's resolve, lifting and peeling away the man's defenses like old wallpaper. "I know you know where Miranda is."

"That was a long time ago," Xeno demurred. "Maybe she moved."

"Don't speculate, Xeno. Articulate." Nott stopped in front of the crumpled wizard once more, toes pointed forward and wand cocked threateningly. All of his magical ability was focused on the prisoner in front of him. The greyish lump of man on the floor began to quiver and keen with dismay. Within moments, he broke.

"Swansea," Xeno revealed at last, choking on the word like a swallowed feather. He stared at the ground; his hair hung in a dirty curtain around his face, obscuring his shame from view. "She moved to Swansea."

Nott chuckled slightly and relaxed, crouching. "Never fear, Xeno. This isn't about Miranda, you know. She was just a woman, after all, no matter how prestigious her last name. Lovely – they all are, from that family – but foolish and arrogant. I did much better, really, with your wife's sister. No, this is about finding the daughter Miranda stole from me. This is about claiming what is rightfully mine." He walked over to the burly guard who had waited so patiently, leaning against the wall, picking his cuticles. "Speaking of which – thank you for the use of your wand, Cunningham."

Nott and Cunningham left Xeno where he lay, now crumpled all the way to the floor with one cheek resting against the filthy flagstones. Tears tracked clean rivulets through the dirt on his face. "I'm sorry, Miranda," he whispered to the empty air. "I tried."

XoXoXoXoXoX

George rolled over and blinked, trying to place the sound that had woken him. There was watery light coming in through the window, and the shop below was silent, so he knew it was early. He held perfectly still, listening and waiting. There it was again, coming from the bathroom: Astoria's voice, lifted in song, slightly muffled by the sound of running water. George started to laugh, but he found himself captivated instead. In spite of the depth of her speaking voice, her singing voice was a clear, sweet soprano, the notes bright and warm as they echoed off the tiles. He did not recognize the song; it had a complicated cadence that drew the listener in, and the words didn't seem to be English. Without thinking about it, he slid out of bed – still nude – and snuck over to the bathroom door, opening it silently with a deft twist of the wrist. The voice from the shower hit him full force, continuing its haunting, lilting melody. No, the language was definitely not English; Italian, or possibly Spanish, George thought. When it reached a note that seemed both impossibly high and infused with bittersweet longing, he felt his skin prickle into gooseflesh. Just then, the shower turned off suddenly, and before he had a chance to make a discreet exit, the curtain jerked back to reveal Astoria: naked, dripping wet, and still singing. She snapped her mouth shut mid-note and reached for the towel waiting for her on the edge of the sink, throwing him a dirty look for embarrassing her.

"Good morning," George said, trying to act casual in spite of being caught red-handed and bare-arsed, creeping his lover in the shower. "I heard you singing," he explained lamely. "I didn't know you could sing." She refused to meet his eye, and he got the sense that she did not like to sing in front of people. "Are you part Veela?"

"No, why?"

"Because, this." He showed her the gooseflesh on his arms.

Astoria's wintry eyes softened, and one hand reached out to rub his skin lightly. "I did that? Flitwick would be proud," she remarked.

"Flitwick?"

"How do you think I learned to sing? He taught me and Daphne both." She towel-dried her hair vigorously, making it stand up all over her head in tongues of mahogany-black flame.

"Really? I didn't know Flitwick could sing."

"You don't know much, do you?" The words were exasperated, the tone affectionate. She met his eyes in the mirror as he moved to stand behind her. "He was the resident choirmaster at Hogwarts, remember? Not that we got many chances to perform."

"All I know is, I wish I had two ears to hear you sing with," George replied softly. Her reflection melted slightly at his words. _I am so smooth, _George thought. "What were you singing?"

"Isn't it pretty? It's Muggle music, actually, from an Italian opera."

"What's it about?"

"It's a woman begging her lover to stop playing games and treat her kindly."

"How ironic." He reached out and laid his broad, warm hands on her shoulders, pressing a soft kiss to the nape of her neck.

"Isn't it, though?" Astoria purred.

"I guess you have to leave to go to work now?" His lips and tongue settled where her neck met her shoulder, tracing little patterns on the freshly-washed skin.

"Not 'til next week." Seeing George's confused look, Astoria remembered that she had not ever told him what she did for a living. She filled him in quickly as she began to get dressed. "I'm self-employed. I run physical fitness and combat skills seminars for various businesses and Quidditch teams. I get the lion's share from Gringott's, though. I'm running a two-week seminar for their new Artefact Recovery team starting next Monday, actually. They're going to some old castle in Armenia, or something." She pulled her grey dress back over her head. "I don't really pay attention to their missions, I just get them back into tip-top shape and teach them to kick arse."

A sudden gleam entered George's eye. "You know what?"

"What?"

"I'm taking a sick day."

XoXoXoXoXoX

Harry woke up earlier than usual that morning, in spite of the extremely late night he'd had. The first thing he saw when he opened his eyes was the object on the nightstand, which he'd begun thinking of as "that fecking _thing_". He'd not been thrilled with Luna's plan to transcribe it, but she'd convinced him with a combination of reason and feminine wiles. Now he _had_ to read it, a thought that filled him with intense dread. He'd learned – rather the hard way – that mysterious, apparently sentient books were better left unopened. But this was work, not Hogwarts, and it was a mysterious book from the Planet Room, not Voldemort's diary. Luna stirred and murmured next to him, reminding Harry that he was doing all this for the woman he loved. He smiled at her sleeping form and grudgingly reached for the book, wondering what he was in for.

To his surprise, the random page he opened contained not lines of text, but a family tree. It was very unlike the one on the wall at Grimmauld Place, which depicted many generations of the Most Noble (and Mostly Extinct) House of Black. This was much smaller; each side showed only three generations of names, laid out neatly instead of branching like a river delta. There were no dates, and no portraits. As his eyes followed the chronology down the left-hand side of the page, a shiver crawled up Harry's spine.

Gordon Vance – M – Isobel Davis

Xenophilius Lovegood – M –Pandora Vance Belinda Vance –M – Jacob Nott

Luna Lovegood Theodore Nott

Harry dropped the book in shock, his mind reeling as he tried to make sense of what he'd just seen. According to the chart, Gordon and Isobel Vance had produced two daughters, Pandora and Belinda; Pandora had married and become Pandora Lovegood, and her sister had married and become Belinda Nott. _Merlin...Luna and Theo are cousins. Does she know? Does either of them know?_ _Gods, who else is on this family tree? Am I going to find a Malfoy in here somewhere?_

Harry re-opened the fallen book to a random section near the beginning, intending to flip forward until he found his page again. He expected a different family tree, or some text; to his surprise, the Vance family tree appeared on the page before him, as though he had not closed the book at all. He turned the page several more times, and it was always there – the same family tree.

"Right then," he muttered. Reluctantly, Harry swept his eyes toward the connection between the left and right-hand sides of the tree: a broken marriage link between Jacob Nott and a woman named Miranda Greengrass.

Circe Flint – M – Edward Greengrass

Jacob Nott –X – Miranda Greengrass Alexander Greengrass – M – Erica Warrington

Penelope Nott Daphne Greengrass Astoria Greengrass

Harry's thoughts chased each other like dust devils. _Circe and Edward Greengrass had two children, Miranda and Alexander. Miranda married Jacob Nott and had a daughter named Penelope before she divorced him. Alexander married Erica and had two children, Daphne and Astoria. They have a cousin Penelope somewhere who is Theo's half-sister. _ He figured Penelope Nott was probably somewhere between Bill Weasley's age and the same age as George; but to Harry's recollection, other than Theo, there hadn't been anyone named Nott around Hogwarts since Jacob himself. But there had been a Penelope in Percy's year...

"Fuck," Harry said loudly.

"Harry?" Luna slurred sleepily from her pillow. "Whasswrong?"

"Luna, wake up. I've got something to tell you."

She sat up quickly and peered at him in alarm, taking in his pale face and wide-eyed stare. "Harry, what is it?"

"We're taking a sick day."


End file.
